


Serendipity

by Jentrevellan



Series: Lyla Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Awkward Cullen, Banter, Cullen Fluff, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Inner Dialogue, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Mutual Pining, POV Cullen Rutherford, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, horrible Solas, housemate banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 12:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8624452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jentrevellan/pseuds/Jentrevellan
Summary: Lyla Lavellan is heading to Skyhold University, after dropping out of her previous uni. A distance and toxic relationship with her boyfriend Solas in Denerim is put under strain but she soon becomes fast friends with her new housemates, classmates and work colleagues, including uni drop-out Cullen Rutherford. **On hold for a rewrite**A modern AU setting of Thedas. Please enjoy!





	1. Lyla

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first of another new fic for me and my first ever AU! I've used my own experiences from uni, and I'm sorry in advance for making Solas appear horrid. This will be a bit of a slow burner with plot etc. I hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla meets her potential new housemates at a small house in Skyton.

1\. Lyla

I click my fingers anxiously as pull up outside the house. It’s a quiet, suburban street, a good few miles from the centre of town, closer to the university campus, and that suits me perfectly. There’s plenty of parking and it’s a sweet end-of-terrace property that says nothing significant and looks just like the others. A white PVC front door, bay windows and a slate roof. The red brick looks warm and glow in the afternoon sun and I find myself smiling - already this looks better than the murky dorm I used to share in Redcliffe. 

I glance at my phone, noting the time and cut the ignition. With a deep, steadying breath, I get out of my little red car, run my hands through my hair and approach the front door. I glance at my phone again - three minutes early. I’m contemplating whether to wait longer but decide against standing outside like an idiot and ring the doorbell, fiddling with my car keys. 

The door swings open and I’m greeted by a tall, dark haired woman with a strong jaw. She eyes me up and down, and I think I’m being judged instantly. It’s something I’m used to, but still. I clear my throat and hold out my hand. 

“Hi, I’m Lyla Lavellan - I’m here to view the spare room…?” I say hopefully. 

The woman looks down at my outstretched hand before taking it in a swift but firm grip. “Ah yes, the 4 o’clock viewing,” she says in a thick accent I think is Nevaran. “Come in.” 

She steps aside and I walk past her into a narrow hallway. The door shuts behind me and I glance curiously up the stairs. 

“If you head on up, I’ll show you the room first, and then the rest of the house,” she says dryly. It sounds quite rehearsed and I think she’s probably been saying it all afternoon. As I head up the creaky stairs onto the landing, there are two equal sized bedrooms and a good sized bathroom. The bedroom doors are open - the left one is dark, with a deep purple paint, whilst the other is fairly plain, with a few sports clothes hanging to dry on the radiator. 

“Keep going up,” the woman says from behind me. 

I oblige and head up an even narrower staircase into what used to be the attic. The landing is tiny up here and two more doors face me, both of which are closed. 

“Hang on a moment,” she says, and fumbles for her keys in her jeans. I watch as she fiddles with the lock, before the door swings open to reveal a small but sweet attic room. There’s a single bed, desk and wardrobe but I am instantly drawn to the huge skylight in the ceiling. 

“May I…?” I say, looking at the woman. She nods sleepily and I step into the room, getting the view of the long and narrow back garden. It’s on a slope and behind the end of the garden is the back of another row of houses. But my eye is drawn past them and to the rolling hills and mountains- it almost reminds me of home. 

“What an amazing view!” I breathe. 

“It’s one of the best in the house,” the woman says from behind me. “The room next to this one looks over all of Skyton.” 

I smile at her, and look around the room. It is, admittedly, small, with a thick black beam holding the ceiling up above my head. But it’s warm and cosy with everything I need. I already know I want it, but knowing how competitive it is to be a roommate, I casually continue my observations of the room, not wanting to show how eager I am. I have to be liked as a person, I remind myself.

“So you’ve had lots of viewings today?” I say conversationally. 

The dark haired woman leans on the doorframe, her arms crossed. “Indeed. Twelve to be exact. You’re number thirteen and the last of the day, thank the Maker.” 

“Lots of interest then?”

She inclines her head slightly. “You could say that.” 

A silence falls between us and I use it to open the wardrobe doors and peer inside. “It’s so hard finding somewhere to live,” I sigh, offering her a small smile. 

I think I almost get one in return. She shrugs. “I’m surprised how much interest we’ve had, considering it’s just before Santilia. How come you’re looking to move?” she asks curiously. 

“I’m starting at Skyhold Uni in the new year,” I reply. 

“Starting?” 

“Yeah, I’ve just moved from Redcliffe Uni. Didn’t get on with my lecturers,” I explain. 

She nods sagely. “I’ve dropped out before. Used to go to Denerim Uni but dropped out after a year and ended up here…” 

“Oh, my boyfriend goes to Denerim Uni,” I say. 

“Huh. It’s okay, I guess.” 

“Huge and slightly intimidating,” I chuckle, and I’m rewarded with a smile. “You know, I feel awfully rude - looking around the house and I didn’t even catch your name.” I fiddle with the keys in my hand, and pray to the Creators that I’m

She tilts her head to the side. “Cassandra Pentaghast.” There’s a pause. “So why are you starting almost half-way through second year…?” 

I shrug, and smile. “Couldn’t do it. I thought second year would be better, but I was so wrong. Same lecturers, and to be honest, Redcliffe wasn’t my first choice, but it was closer and easier to get to from Denerim,” I explain. 

“So you can see your boyfriend?” she prompts. 

“Partly that, yes,” I admit reluctantly. 

A strange silence falls between us and I glance about the room once more. There’s so much more to say, but not here, not now. I think Cassandra is biting her lip to stop asking more so I beam at her and say “I really like the room, by the way. May I see the rest of the house?” 

“Yes, of course.” We step outside the room and Cassandra locks the door behind. She points to the room next to it. “Sera lives in this room. She’s from Denerim and studies Science. Also, she is kind of a loose canon, but works night shifts at the corner shop.”

I nod as we head back down. Cassandra shows me the bathroom which is clean, tidy and fresh. She then knocks lightly on the door to the purple room we passed earlier. There is a pause and I hear the floorboards creak as a lean man saunters over. He is dressed in an exquisite tweed jacket and his dark hair looks in better condition than any one I know. He bows extravagantly as Cassandra introduces him.

“This is Dorian Pavus.” she states.

“A pleasure!” Dorian says, stepping forward to take my hand. I freeze at the contact, but he just throws his head back and laughs at my reaction. “Oh you shy lamb! I like you already.” 

“I… nice to meet you Dorian.” I say eventually. “I’m Lyla Lavellan.” 

“So polite! Cassandra, she’s the best one yet, surely.” 

“You have _literally_ just met her,” Cassandra crosses her arms. 

“And I’m impressed! Tell me, Lyla, what are you studying?” 

I smile warmly at this instantly likeable man. “Common Language at Skyhold. Well, I start in the new year,” I quickly explain. 

“Common Language!” he repeats excitedly, his eyebrows raised. “Same as me: how exciting!” 

I grin in response and Cassandra turns away. “Alright Dorian, that’s quite enough. We don’t want you to scare her away.” 

He winks at me and I smother a giggle. “Wouldn’t dream of it with this one. It was nice to meet you - hopefully we’ll see you soon!” he steps backwards into his room and I follow Cassandra down the stairs. 

“Dorian is… a character,” Cassandra says eventually. 

“Seems like an interesting household,” I chuckle.

Cassandra smirks. “You could say that. This is the kitchenn - it’s not much, but when it’s just us four, it’s fine.” 

I peer around her and look at the narrow, kitchen with dated counters - the typical beige of a student house. I try not to get my hopes up too much - out of all of the other student houses I’ve visited todat, this is clearly the one I prefer. But how to let her know without seeming too eager…? 

We step into the largest room in the house which has two, well-worn sofas, a retro fold-out table with different chairs around it, and a small television in the corner, where an Orlesian drama is playing with subtitles. I turn to Cassandra. 

“Is this _Enchanté_?” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, it’s my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too!” I laugh. 

Cassandra sits on one of the sofas and indicates I do the same. We both turn our attention to the drama that’s unfolding with a flurry of silk skirts and sweeping shots of Orlesian countryside. I lean back and find myself relaxing, whilst glancing around the room curiously at the magnolia walls with a few film posters stuck on, some of which are my favourite. I glance at Cassandra to see her leaning forward eagerly as a love confession is uttered in passionate Orlesian to a masked lover. 

After around twenty minutes, the episode finishes and Cassandra turns to me. “So, do you have any questions?” 

“About _Enchanté_ or the house?” 

She grins. “I’m so glad you like it. Perhaps we can watch the next episode together when it comes out?” 

I fiddle with my keys and try to hide my excitement. “I would like that. Does that mean…?” 

Cassandra gets to her feet and stretches. “I think if I didn’t give you the room, Dorian would kick me out of the house and still have you move in.” 

“Alright. Well I think I have two questions.”

“Shoot.”

I take a breath. “What happened to the previous roommate?” 

Cassandra’s smile wavers for a flicker of a second and I almost think I’m imagining it. “He’s dropped out of uni, so our landlord told him to move out, due to tax reasons, or something. But he’s a good friend and lives just down the street in a different shared house. There’s no hard feelings,” she explains. 

“And that’s my curiosity sated,” I get to my feet. “Will the other girl - Sera - object to me moving in without meeting me?” It’s happened before - in the past I’ve not met all of the housemates and ending up being completely juxtaposed by them. Not an experience I want to happen again anytime soon. 

Cassandra shakes her head and we walk towards the front door. “Not at all. She met a few of the others who looked around but Dorian and I didn’t like any of them. At least with you, both Dorian and I can finally agree on something. I can’t see Sera objecting either.” 

I stand by the front door, twirling my car keys with my finger. “Well, thank you, Cassandra. How soon can I move in?” 

“Well, we’re all heading off home over Satinalia, except for Dorian, so whenever really.” 

“Is Dorian staying here for Satinalia?” I ask curiously. 

She nods. “He’s from Tevinter and refuses to pay the extortionate prices for flights home, so ends up staying here.” 

I chew my bottom lip. “Would it be alright if I moved in at the weekend?” 

Cassandra’s eyebrows raise. “Yeah, sure! I’ll email the paperwork over to you.” 

I grin. “Thanks so much!” I step outside and rub my hands together as the crisp winter air bites at my finger tips. 

“See you on Saturday,” Cassandra says, closing the door.

I bid her farewell and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It’s dark now, and the yellow streetlamp are illuminating the quiet little road. I dash to my car, turn the keys in the ignition and blast on the heater. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, hesitating for a moment before answering. 

“Heya,” I say. 

_“Hi. I thought you said you’d be back by six_.” It’s not a question. 

“Ah, well the last viewing went really, really well so we started hanging out. It’s perfect and I got the room!” 

“ _Mmm-hmm, are there any guys living there_?” 

I frown at his question. “Yes there’s one, why?”

“ _What’s he like_?”

I pause. “Umm, he’s really friendly. I only met him briefly, but seems nice. All of them do.” 

“ _Yeah, ok. When will you be back_?” 

“Just heading off now. So a couple of hours, depending on traffic I guess.” 

“ ‘ _kay. Well I’m going to meet some others for drinks - can you pick me up from town on your way back_?” 

I try to ignore the painful twist in my stomach. “Sure. Give me a text where you are.” 

“ _Thanks babe. See you soon_.” 

“Yeah, bye,” I reply, but he’s already gone. I stare at the home screen on my phone before opening the maps app and tap in the route back to Denerim. I try to forget the conversation, try to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind as I flick on the radio and drive the long road to Denerim. As I pull out of the street, I glance in my rear-view mirror and look at the house again, my anger fading. Yes, that place is going to be perfect. 

I turn off the road and head to the motorway, not wanting to leave Skyton. Not wanting to go to Denerim ever again. But I go on my way, speeding down the quiet roads towards the life I’m starting to hate.


	2. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen meets his friend's new housemate, and she's not what he was expecting.

“Service!”

I spin on the spot and head towards the kitchen, piling the piping hot pub food onto a tray.

“Table fifteen, right?” I say to the chef.

The dwarf nods distractedly as he throws a pile of fries in the deep-fat-frier. I check the order and stride over to the table in the corner, not noticing any of them. Lunchtime service is usually busy with tourists to Skyton, but it’s exceptionally quiet on this midweek lunchtime shift. I serve an elderly couple and head back to the bar, swiping my key card to update the order. It’s a routine I know I could do in my sleep.

My colleague Blackwall is polishing glasses behind the bar. “You working all day?” he asks conversationally.

I shake my head. “I’m off at two - Josephine’s the DM this evening.”

“You at the cinema after?”

“Night off. Can’t believe my luck,” I admit. My second job at the cinema is easier than this work in the Herald’s Rest Pub, but the pay is awful. The only real perk is getting free cinema tickets - a perk I wish I could take more advantage of, if I had the time.

I process the order on the till, my hands moving quickly over the touch screen as I tap in the additional order of garlic bread as Blackwall heads down the bar to serve.

“Excuse me?”

I look up and see a young elven woman with light blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun standing at the bar expectantly. I put on my bar mask (an expression where I pull a fake-but-believable smile to each and every customer).

“What can I get you?”

She smiles sweetly and pulls out something of her handbag. “I was just wondering if I could hand my CV in?” 

“O-oh,” I say, surprised. I look her over once again. She’s about a head shorter than me, slender with bright green eyes that appear to be looking me over just as much as I’m looking at her. Maker’s breath, she’s pretty. I glance at Blackwall who is unabashedly staring at her. 

“If you have any jobs going, of course. I’ve done bar work before,” she explains hurriedly, placing her CV on the counter. I pull my gaze from her face and glance over the CV.

“Er-actually we do have a position open. Wh-what hours can you work?”

She smiles again, and it really shows in her eyes. It almost knocks me back, how genuine it is. “I’m starting uni in the new year but I’ve got my timetable already. Shall I write it down?”

I nod and grab a pen from my apron, passing it to her. Our fingers touch, and I swear she gave me a static shock. But she doesn’t notice and starts scribbling dates and times over her CV. I watch her face as she scrunches it up in thought, before adding another note. 

“So you’ve, er, done bar work before?” I prompt.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind a pointed ear. “Yeah, in Redcliffe. I’ve just moved here and need a job.” 

“Can you do weekends?” I ask, my mouth dry, hating how blunt I sound. 

“Yep. I’ll pop that down here as well, shall I?” she says, glancing up at me.

“That… that would be great,” I say lamely, crossing my arms. I’m fighting for things to say as she scribbles her availability, but I’m stuck. Maker’s breath, if she gets this job… 

“Here you go,” she passes the CV back over to me along with my pen. 

“Great, I’ll give this to the General Manager now,” I say. 

“Thank you so much! It was nice to meet you,” she turns with a small wave and leaves the pub. 

There’s a low whistle behind me. “Andraste’s tits. She’s cute.” 

“Blackwall,” I scold. “Watch the bar - just going to pass this to Leliana.” 

“Mm, fingers crossed,” he says, watching her through the far window as she checks her phone outside the door before heading down the street. 

I ignore Blackwall and slide out of the bar and head up the stairs, taking two at a time, the elf’s CV gripped in my hands. Normally I would hang on to a CV for a few hours, scrutinise it myself and then hand it over to Leliana. I don’t know why I’m so eager to-

Of course I know why. I just don’t want to admit it. I stand outside the office door and hesitate, actually looking at the CV in my hands. I commit her face to memory as I read her name and bio. Lyla Lavellan. Ok, must remember that. Says here she _has_ got bar experience along with retail. But this catches my eye - she’s starting 2nd year at Skyhold Uni after swapping from Redcliffe? My eyebrows raise at the questions, but I shake my head. Now I’m just being nosey, and I know it. 

I run a hand through my hair and knock lightly on the closed office door at the top of the building, in the attic space. I push the heavy door open and hover over the threshold as Leliana sits at the cluttered desk of paperwork, files and cash. Her short red hair is all I can see as she hunches over her computer, her back to me. 

I clear my throat and she glances at me over her shoulder. “Hello Cullen,” she says, before turning back to her work. 

Stepping into the office, I approach her desk and wait for her to finish typing. “Just wanted to give you this CV that was handed in to me.” 

She pauses and looks at me, an eyebrow raised. “Oh? And since when have you been so interested in potential employees?” 

I rub my neck. “No reason! I didn’t want it getting lost behind the bar.”

Leliana takes the CV from me and reads with narrowed eyes. I wait as she digests before she looks at me. “What was she like then? Do you think I should call her in for a trial shift?” 

I can feel my face warm. Maker’s breath, if Leliana finds out that perhaps I’m only doing it because of such a pretty face, I will never, _ever_ hear the end of it. Instead I turn my head and pretend to look at the rota for the week on the wall. 

“She seemed friendly, quite smiley. She mentioned that she’s got bar experience, which is a bonus.”

“Yes, and her availability is really flexible. Alright Cullen, I may give her a call. Was there anything else?”

I try to hide my smile that's threatening to show and shake my head. I’m dismissed and I head back down to the bar and run idle errands around the pub as I wait for my shift to end. After working a night shift at the cinema last night, the caffeine-induced energy I’ve had all morning is starting to fizzle out and my tiredness threatens to show. And with that tiredness, come the headaches. 

I busy myself with prepping the bar for a Saturday night and could not be more relieved when I see Josephine walk though the door. I pass her my handover notes for the day and could not be out of there quick enough. I throw on my thick jacket, grab my satchel and get out of the bar as speedily as possible, without seeming too eager from the other staff. But my eyelids are heavy and I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and let the fade take me. 

* * *

It’s three in the afternoon and I’ve been stretched out on the mattress on the floor for the last half an hour, sleep evading me. I peer at my phone vibrating from under the pillows and with a groan I sit up and scratch my head. Three missed calls, six texts and one voicemail. Maker’s breath, can’t they just let me sleep? 

I scroll through the texts, ignore the standard fraud ones and open Cassandra’s text curiously.

<Cass P>  
_[New housemate’s moved in. Having a housewarming thing tonight, about 7. Nothing huge, just drinks and maybe a trashy movie. Wanna come if you’re not working?x]_

After working eighteen hours straight between both jobs, the last thing I feel like doing is heading to a small party to meet the person who’s taken up my old room. I’ve been in this new house with other adults for the best part of a month, and I miss the banter and companionship of the old house. But uni was no longer an option and I had to go. I exit the message and pull up Dorian’s. 

<Dorian P>  
_[Hello you. Come over tonight and meet our new roomie. She’s a cutie!]_

Another message from him follows.

<Dorian P>  
_[It will do you good, and you know it. I know you’re not working tonight or tomorrow!]_

I groan and lay back down on my mattress. The most appealing thing I want to do now is to fall asleep, wrapped up in my duvet and possibly binge watch an awful, old Fereldan comedy. But my curiosity is hard to ignore. It _would_ be good to see the old house and friends for a drink, and maybe I can pretend I still live there. Perhaps I can crash on the sofa - Maker knows it more comfortable than this mattress I’m living on. 

I reply to Dorian first. 

_[Fine. I’ll be there at 7.]_

Then I read Cassandra’s again before replying. 

_[Sounds good. See you later.]_

At some point I do fall asleep in a light snooze, vaguely aware of it getting darker as the winter sun disappears. I wake up again and glance at my phone as my stomach rumbles. Its just before six so I drag myself out of bed, throw on a shirt and grab my towel. Blissfully, the house is empty so I spend as long as possible under the warm and calming heat of the water. 

Thankfully, the headache which had threatened to emerge has been subdued by my snooze. I take some painkillers just in case and head into the cramped kitchen, noting with distaste the dirty dishes piled in the sink and the pungent smell of rotting food, hidden somewhere beneath the overflowing bin. My appetite’s gone so I back out of the kitchen, only taking a few bottles of beer with me. 

I step outside the maisonette and take a deep breath. It’s absolutely freezing this evening, and more than ever I miss my cosy attic room. It was always warm and dry, not cold and stale like this new place. But I know reminiscing is not going to do me any good. I look up and down the street before heading uphill and around the corner to see the familiar red-brick end-of-terrace which I had once called home in some of my darkest hours. With a wry smile, I suppose that I still do think it’s home - a place where my friends gather and happen to live. 

It feels strange to head up to the front door and ring the door bell, when I once used to come and go as I pleased. And now I’m a little anxious - why did I agree to come and meet the person who has, effectively, replaced me? It’s a ridiculous notion, but even so… 

“Cullen!” Cassandra greets me warmly, throwing open the door. “Come in out the cold!” She ushers me inside and I am more than happy to oblige as I feel the warmth and the divine miracle that is central heating. 

“I’m so glad you came. Feels like we haven’t seen you in ages!” Cassandra is saying, leading me down the all too familiar hallway towards the kitchen. I place the beers on the counter and help myself to one, subconsciously going to the top draw for the bottle opener I know is there. 

“It’s so weird that you don’t live here any more,” she says, accepting a beer I offer her. 

I chuckle. “You’re not the only one.” There’s music coming from the living room along with the low hum of animated conversations. “So what’s your new housemate like?” 

A smile breaks out on Cassandra’s face and I blink. It’s so unusual to see her grin so genuinely like that. “Honestly? She’s lovely. Sera has already adopted her as a new friend, Dorian dotes on her and I find myself enjoying her company so much when we’re watching Enchante together." 

I make a noncommittal noise, taking a sip of beer, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy in my gut. I am pleased they have all found someone great to live with, but I cannot help but feel detached as I wish it could be me. I know it’s selfish, but the last year living in this house had been some of my better times, despite everything. 

Perhaps something betrays my thoughts as Cassandra’s smile fades. “I… perhaps we should go in the other room?” she suggests, and I follow her into the living room. I grin when I see my old film posters still on the walls.

Dorian spots me enter and strides over, a pink cocktail in his hand. “And here you are! Fashionably late as always!” 

I roll my eyes not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. I glance about the room, noticing a few familiar faces but also some new ones. There’s a skinny young man with blond hair covering half of his face and sitting on one of the sofas, picking at his nails. I watch as Varric sits next to him and strikes up a conversation, but the boy is shy and I’m curious who he is. 

There are a few people dancing and Dorian starts dancing in front of me, threatening to spill his cocktail. He walks over to the speakers and lowers the music. Cassandra makes some disgruntled noise from next to me as Dorian taps his glass for everyone to turn to look at him. I lean against the wall and watch with amusement as he picks on some attendees who are whispering.

“I thought I would just say a few words, as this is a housewarming after all!” There’s a trickle of laughter before he continues. “If you didn’t know, the latest housemate to live in this spectacular house with us fine specimens is this lovely little elf here - Lyla Lavellan!”

I freeze, my eyes flying to the blonde-haired elf squirming under everyone’s gazes, her cheeks flushed. Oh Maker. It had to be her, didn’t it? I rub the back of my neck and Cassandra peers at me curiously. 

“You know her?” she whispers.

“Not really. Just met at work this afternoon.” 

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh really?” 

I ignore her as Dorian glares at us both to be quiet. I glance at the elf and see that she is looking at me, just as surprised as I am to see her. So, this is their new housemate. I guess she remembers me then. I’m not sure whether to feel elated or embarrassed as I remember how I’d stumbled over my words. She flashes me a small smile and I look away quickly, feeling warm. I know Cassandra watching me also and it unnerves me just a little. 

Finally Dorian wraps up his little speech. “Well I hope you can all give Lyla a warm welcome and be nice to her when she’s up on campus in the new year! Anyway, enough chat - let’s get drunk!” 

Dorian finishes his cocktail with one mouthful and turns the music back up again. The dancing, chatting and drinking continues, but I now feel very out of place. My head threatens to throb as the painkillers do little to elevate the pain. Dorian saunters over again and glares at us both.

“Please tell me what you were talking about which was so important enough that you were interrupting my little speech?” he says quickly.

“It looked like Cullen knew Lyla, is all,” Cassandra says, frowning. 

“And? Do you?”

I sigh. “Yes. I mean no! I- look, she came into the Herald’s Rest today with her CV and I gave it to Leliana. That's all!” 

A look passes between Dorian and Cassandra and I don’t miss it. “What?” 

But Lyla is here, appearing next to me. “Am I missing something?” she says looking between Cassandra and Dorian and their almost smug expressions. 

“Get used to it. They’re always plotting,” I say dryly, before turning back into the kitchen, downing the rest of my beer and looking for another. 

I’m surprised that Lyla has followed me. She pulls open the fridge and pours herself a glass of white wine before sitting on the kitchen counter. “So you’re _the_ ex-housemate then?” she asks, taking a sip. 

I open the beer bottle and ignore that she’s here in the kitchen alone with me. I haven’t nearly drunk enough beer to be bold enough to do anything about this situation. Instead I walk this fine line of curious glee and nervous apprehension. Finally I nod, bearing in mind that she could be working with me soon, if Leliana calls her. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, my voice flat.

Her face falls a little and I mentally kick myself. We fall into a strange silence and I think of going back into the crowded living room but she interrupts my thoughts. 

“You were at the pub - the Herald’s Rest, right?” When I nod again she grins. “I knew it was you!”

She slides off the counter and I watch as she comes towards me. I notice the way her hips sway, how tight her jeans are. My stomach twists painfully and I’m vaguely aware of how close she is. A small, light hand touches my arm, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. 

“Well I ought to thank you then. I’ve got a trial shift tomorrow afternoon,” she beams at me, her hand withdrawn far quicker than I would like. 

“Lylaaaaa!” a sing-song voice calls out and Sera bounds into the room. “There you are! Come dance with me, yeah?” 

Lyla laughs, and it’s a lovely sound. I want to hear it more. I want to be the cause of that smile and laughter. What? No, I should not be thinking like that. I cannot think like this, not now. Not when I’m so unstable… 

“I was just thanking…er…?” she looks back at me, almost sheepishly. I realise that I never introduced myself. 

“Cullen,” I supply weakly, covering it with a cough. 

She tilts her head to the side. “I was just thanking Cullen here for getting me a trial shift at the Herald’s Rest.” 

Sera’s eyes widen and I rub the back of my neck. “Oooh really?” she looks as if to say something more, but then grabs Lyla’s arm. “C’mon, we’re going to miss the best part of the song!” Sera says, and drags her out of the kitchen so I’m just left standing here. Feeling like a complete idiot. Wondering if I can let myself think these thoughts… but we’ve only just met. 

I take a swig of my beer and head back into the living room. For the first time in a while, I’m grinning and feeling relaxed. Maker’s breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Your kudos and comments keep me going!


	3. Lyla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla starts her first trial shift at The Herald's Rest.

3\. Lyla 

It’s my second shift, so I know it will be easier. Well, the first was really the trial, but I think I did alright considering I dropped a tray of empty glasses, got an order wrong and forgot where the bathrooms were. So, yeah, I think that this shift can’t be worse - it’s a Tuesday afternoon slot, so should be nice, quiet and chilled.

I walk quickly with my head down, earphones in, weaving through the crowds of tourists who have appeared around all of Skyton for the famous Winter Markets. The smell of mulled wine, cinnamon and sweet crepes is lovely as I walk down the crowded streets, but Creators, is it busy. In-between the shoppers, tourists and other commuters, I try to remember to ask my work colleagues of any back-street shortcuts they know, just so I can actually get to work quicker, without having to bump into anyone. 

The doors are locked tight when I finally make it to the pub. I pull out my phone and check the time - hmm, I’m only a few minutes early. I peer around for a bell or buzzer, but there’s nothing, just a very shut front door, with the opening times clearly posted. People on the street around me pass by without a second glance, but I’m feeling stupid - did I get this day right? Are they not open on Tuesdays? 

Just as my thumb hovers over the ‘call’ button, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. The caller ID makes me hesitate, and I think about ignoring it, but I know I can’t - not again anyway. I take a breath and slide my phone to answer.

“Hiya,” I say, tugging my hair behind my ears. 

“ _Hey, are you coming back to Denerim this week_?” the other voice says. 

I bite my lip, looking up at the shut-up windows of the pub. “I’m not sure yet - I need to get my rota from work.” 

“ _Work_?” he repeats, distracted. I ignore the flick of anger in my stomach.

“Yeah, I got the job at the pub, remember?” The line goes quiet and I think it’s a poor connection. “Hello? Are you still there?” 

“ _Mmm_ ,” is the reply.

“What’s up?” 

There’s a pause. “ _I… I just don’t like the thought of you working in a… pub_.”

“Um, why?”

“ _You’re asking me why? Girls get leered at all the time in pubs!_ ” 

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that here. The Herald’s Rest is a cafe bar: really casual.” 

“ _Even so…_ ”

“Creators Solas: what's the problem?”

“ _Problem_?” 

“Yes, problem! You don’t seem to be listening to me!”

“ _Me, not listening to you? You’re the one who appears to have got a job in a bar even when I said that you shouldn’t!_ ”

My anger flares. “And why shouldn't I? Just because I might get leered at?”

“ _I don’t want_ anyone _looking at you like that!_ ”

I stare down at the ground, biting my lip hard to stop the angry tears. “I… thank you for your concern, but it’s really not like that here.”

“ _Yeah, right_.”

“Look, why don’t you come down and visit? My housemates would love to meet you,” I say quickly, even though I have hardly discussed it with them. 

There’s a sigh on the other end. “ _I guess I’ll get a train or something_.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“ _Yeah… but the tickets are really expensive._ ”

I hum, thinking only for a moment. “I’ll transfer some cash over tonight. When can you come down?”

“ _Er, tomorrow maybe? Everyone here has already gone home for the holidays. So boring_.” 

“Tomorrow is great! I’ll pick you up from the station, yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ …”

I look up to see a shutter open from upstairs. I stand back and wave, hoping they’ve seen me. 

“Solas, I’ve got to go - I’m starting work in a sec. You sure you want to come down?”

“ _Yeah. Ping me that money and I’ll come tomorrow_.” 

I smile. “OK great. Thank you! I’ll text you later!” 

“ _Bye_.”

“Bye!” I say, but the line is already dead. I frown at my phone screen, not sure why my stomach is in painful knots. I’m just excited to see him, surely? It’s been about a week, and we’re both still new to this further-distance-relationship thing, but there’s something I’m just not sure about… 

The door unlocks and is pulled open by the manager of the Herald’s Rest - Leliana. Her cropped ginger hair is cut to a perfect bob, giving her quite an authoritative and stern appearance. But after working with her the day before, she is anything but. 

“Good afternoon, Lyla!” she greets me, in a sing-song voice. I grin as she lets me in, closing the door behind us. “How are you? Ready for your first official shift?” 

“Yeah, looking forward to it!”

She smiles, indicating I follow her. “Well Tuesdays tend to be quieter, so it’s only you, me and Cullen this afternoon, before the evening rush.”

I nod, following her past the bar and up the narrow stairs towards the staff room. Leliana strides open to the window and opens it ever so slightly, to let in a cool breeze of air. She turns to me.

“If you want to get ready and meet me upstairs in the office. I’ve just a bit of paperwork for you to fill out before we start.” 

As Leliana leaves, I shrug off my coat and scarf, run my fingers through my hair. I stand by the mirror and pin on my ‘trainee’ badge on my chest. Smoothing my skirt, I glance at the clock decide to head up to the attic office, taking the narrow stairs carefully. I can hear Cullen’s voice on the phone and as I get closer to the slightly-ajar office door, I catch the end of the conversation.

“…it’s really not on, mate,” he’s saying.

There’s quiet as the person on the other line replies. I knock lightly on the door, and Cullen spins in the office chair, phone pressed to his ear. He raises his eyebrows at me, which I indicate to mean ‘come in’. He continues talking as I perch on the edge of the other, vacant desk, Leliana nowhere in sight.

“You should’ve got cover though… yeah… if it Leliana had answered the phone she would’ve skinned you alive… yeah, alright. You owe me though… ok, see you tomorrow.” Cullen hangs up and exhales, running a hand through his hair. 

“Don’t tell me that was Blackwall,” Leliana says from the doorway, her mobile in her hand. 

Cullen stands, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Afraid so. I’ll cover him this evening, don’t worry.”

Leliana sits at the desk I’m perched on, tossing her phone to the side. “No way Cullen - you’ve worked all night.” 

“I don’t mind-”

“It’s totally illegal. I absolutely cannot have you work a twenty-something hour shift.” 

“But-”

“This is not a matter for debate,” she states firmly.

He relents and sits back down, running a hand down his face. I must admit that he looks exhausted.

“This is Cullen, by the way,” Leliana says, distractedly. “He’s one of the Duty Managers here.”

“Oh, we’ve met,” I say, smiling. But Cullen doesn’t even look at me and I feel a little put out. 

“Of course: you gave your CV to him, I think,” Leliana says, also watching Cullen. 

“Yes, I did, and-”

“Cullen is still sat here,” he says dryly, pushing himself up and stretching. “I’ll get open, shall I?” 

Leliana nods, passing him her keys. “I’ll be down with Lyla in a mo.” 

I watch him duck out of the office, not giving either of us a second glance, and I cross my arms uncomfortably. I wonder if he actually remembers me from the little housewarming at the weekend. 

“Was it something I said?” I say, more to myself.

“Don’t mind Cullen - he worked all day and night whilst we were closed on Monday to revarnish the floor,” Leliana explains, shuffling through some paperwork on her desk. “And he’s as stubborn as it gets.” 

I bite my lip with the questions that arise as Leliana takes me through legal paperwork requiring my signature. I show her a copy of my driver’s licence (with that dreadful picture that makes me look like I’ve been punched in the eye), and sign my new contract in agreement to the flexible hours available. She takes a photocopy of my university timetable, asks for a dozen other signatures and then files everything away. 

“Tuesday’s are usually when we take stock of everything and get organised for the rest of the week,” Leliana explains as we head downstairs. “It’s the quietest days, so the perfect time to run errands and clean, rather than stand idle, waiting for custom.” 

The pub doors are thrown open and the large fireplace has been lit so the pub stays warm, despite the open doors. Cullen stands behind the bar, tapping on the till, pushing open the cash drawer and counting the notes. 

“Cullen will take you through the opening procedures and get you to grips with the coffee machine. If you need anything, then dial ‘203’ on the phone over there - that’s the internal number for the office.” 

I absorb all of this information as Leliana leans over the bar, reaching for a glass. “Cullen, can you also show Lyla the stockroom, when you get a moment?”

He nods, fingers still busily tapping the till screen. Leliana heads back upstairs, so I stand awkwardly just behind the bar, watching the door, but no customers enter. Finally he looks up at me and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Have you used a coffee machine before?” 

I glance at the one behind me and shrug. “They’re all the same, aren’t they?” 

“Almost,” he says, and I think I see the flicker of a smile. “D-did you want t-to get a coffee?” he stammers, not able to meet my gaze.

My stomach twists. “What?” I say faintly. 

“N-not like that!” he says quickly, rubbing his neck harder. Is he blushing? Creators, he is! “What I meant was, when it’s quiet like this, we can help ourselves to a coffee or two. It’s, er,good practice.” 

I click my fingers absent mindedly, watching him curiously. “Alright, two strong coffees, coming right up.”

He glances at me. “How did you know…?”

“That you like your coffee strong?” When he nods, I continue with a smile. “Leliana told me you worked all night. Any sane person would either be asleep or only awake with copious amounts of caffeine.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

I grin and busy myself by the coffee machine, feeling his eyes on me. My face warms - Creators, what’s going on? One moment he’s as cold and emotionless as can be, and the next he’s blushing? Wait, am I blushing too? I shake my head, resisting the urge to peer at him over my shoulder. I grind the coffee and make myself think of Solas and of the fact that he’s coming down to visit me tomorrow. But my eyes drift to the reflection of Cullen in the metallic coffee machine. I won’t deny that he’s attractive: broad shoulders, wavy blonde hair, a scar on his upper lip I can’t help but stare at when he speaks. I scold myself: I must not think of _anyone_ that way, not when I have a boyfriend. I’m sure any other girl would relish the fact that he blushes and stammers his words… which he did with me. 

I finish making two cups of black coffee, and hand him one. Our fingers brush as he takes his cup from me, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Creators, what if he could read my mind and know that I had just admitted to myself that he’s really quite attractive? I quickly snap my hand away and grasp my coffee cup with both hands, bringing the hot liquid to my mouth. 

“Look, Cullen,” I say, after taking a sip. “Do we have a problem?” He stills but I don’t wait for a reply as I continue. “I think perhaps we got off on the wrong foot - what with me taking your old room and all.” He begins to reject my statement, but I hold a hand up and he stops. “Honestly, it’s fine. We are working together, so I want things to be ok between us.” 

He inclines his head slightly. “I…Alright.” 

I stick out my hand. “Hello, my name is Lyla,” I say in mock formality, trying to keep a straight face.

Cullen chuckles and shakes it. “Hello Lyla, my name is Cullen.”

“Alright, Cullen,” I say. “Let’s see… how long have you worked here?” 

He sips his coffee before answering. “About a year. I also work at a cinema around the corner.” 

“A cinema? What’s it like?” 

He smiles. “It’s a pretty good job - terrible pay, but I get to watch the films whenever I like.” 

“Seen anything good recently?” 

Cullen pauses. “I’ve seen the beginning and end of that new Antivian drama. From those bits, I’m sure the middle is just as good.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Just the beginning and end…?”

“I sometimes do projection jobs over there, so that’s all I get to see, usually.” 

I make a noncommittal noise and we fall back into a strange silence. Once again I rack my brains and I glance at him to see he’s rubbing the back of his neck. Eventually I say, “well my boyfriend is coming to down to visit this week, maybe we should check out the film…?” 

His rubbing on his neck stills and he looks at me through the corner of his eyes, his face expressionless. “Boyfriend?” he repeats. 

I look down at the coffee in my hands and nod. “Yeah, perhaps that Antivan drama you mentioned.” 

He nods, not meeting my gaze. “Well if you come on Thursday, I’ll probably be working, so I could give you and your, ah, boyfriend,some free tickets.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you do do that…” I say, my face warming. 

“I know you’re not, but I’m insisting… as a friend.” 

I smile. “Thank you, Cullen.” 

The rest of the shift speeds up and halts our idle chat as a surprise afternoon rush hits us. It’s mainly making coffees and slicing cakes before the evening custom arrive, but I enjoy it. What’s more, I find myself really enjoying working with Cullen. Despite our weird arkwardness between each other which I can’t seem to figure out, when we’re serving customers and the bar is busy, we actually work really, really well together. As I’m counting change for a costumer he will lean over me to reach something, and I naturally duck my head. It’s these little things that make me chuckle when he mumbles an apologies if he accidentally brushes up against me whilst reaching for something. He’s incredibly humble, which I think I failed to see when we initially met. 

As the afternoon slides into the evening, Cullen stays on to work, despite Leliana’s reprimands for working too many hours. I make him a coffee behind the bar in any down time, which he receives warmly, and we mainly just chat. I find out a few titbits about him, but other than a few quiet and polite answers, he’s very elusive of any finer details. I shrug it off - to be honest, we’re still strangers to one-another. 

When I finally glance at the clock, I see it’s time to close, so we usher out all of the customers, bang on eleven thirty, lock the doors and sweep the floors. Cullen turns off the music and we work around each other to get the place tidy for another day. I finally dash upstairs to grab my coat and bag and pull out my phone, my eyebrows rising at the number of missed calls and texts from Solas. 

Cullen stands behind me. “Everything alright?” he asks, nodding his head to my phone screen. 

“Hmm, yeah, just my boyfriend trying to get hold of me.” 

“Sorry - didn’t mean to pry,” he says hurriedly, pulling his jacket on. 

“You didn’t,” I say distractedly, then glance at him. “Um, Cullen?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’ve still got your apron on,” I chuckle. 

He glances down and pinches his nose. “You’re right,” he mumbles. 

I laugh, slipping my phone back in my bag. “I mean, it’s an interesting look - by all means you could start a trend.” 

“Maker’s breath,” he sighs with a smile and I laugh even harder. Oh, it’s so easy to relax around him, what’s got into me. I find myself playing with my hair when we talk, so I swiftly tug it behind my ears. 

“Please tell me you’ve got tomorrow off, at least?” I ask, as we walk downstairs, locking up each room on the way and flicking the lights. 

“I do, thankfully.” 

“Any plans?” 

“All I want to do is sleep,” he says, stifling a yawn. 

We head back into the bar, doing the final checks and locking doors, windows and the tills. As we arrive at the door, I see just how tired he looks and I feel a pang of something inside me. Concern? Sympathy? 

“Did you want a lift home?” I say quickly, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them.

He blinks slowly at me. “Huh?”

“A lift. My car’s parked just outside.” 

Cullen hesitates and finally shakes his head. “No, I… I shouldn’t. Besides the walk home will probably be good for me.” 

I cast an eye over him, noting his pretty good physique and know he’s just being polite. Again, I don’t press it, and wave farewell to him over my shoulder as I find my car. As I blast on the heater, rubbing my hands together and turn on the ignition, I reach for my phone in my handbag and skim down the abundance of texts, missed called and Facepage notifications. Before I pull away, I reluctantly dial the number I’ve been avoiding and hear it ring just twice before it’s answered. 

“ _Hey_.” The voice is short, blunt. I swallow.

“Hey, it’s me! Sorry I missed your call-”

“ _Where the hell have you been_?” 

I still, my stomach twisting. “Excuse me?” 

“ _I’ve tried to call you eleven times. Are you ignoring me_?”

“Solas, I’ve been at work-”

“ _You’re shitting me, right_?”

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry, it was so busy today-”

“ _So you’ve been at work this whole time_?” 

“Yes, I told-”

“ _And you didn’t think to let me know?_ ” 

I bristle. “I did. And anyway, why should it bother you?”

“ _Why_?” he repeats exasperated. “ _Because I don’t believe you, that’s why_!” 

“And when have I given you the impression that you shouldn’t believe me?” I retort, my voice rising, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, and I think that maybe, he's relenting. “ _I don’t trust any of these people you’re with. I don’t know them_.” 

I try to level my voice. “I’m sorry. I know it must be strange, but you’re meeting them tomorrow when you come down, right?” 

A pause. “ _Yeah, I guess_.” 

“Sorry I shouted,” I say after a moment, wiping away angry tears from my eyes.

“ _Mmm hmm_.” 

“I’ll see you at the station in the morning, ok?”

“ _Yeah, see you then_.”

“OK, bye,”

“ _Yeah_.” he hangs up. 

I stare at my phone for a moment, before chucking it on the next net to me, pounding a fist in frustration at my steering wheel. I take a deep breath, flip down the mirror to make sure my eyes aren't red, then pull out of the car park, driving down he deserted street. It’s a really cold night, but thankfully my car heats up quickly. As I turn off a road, I see a figure walking slowly, coat pulled up around his neck. I bite my lip.

“Fuck it,” I say to myself and click the indicator, parking next to the walking figure who stops. I roll down the window. 

“It’s freezing outside Cullen - let me give you a lift home.” 

Cullen blinks a few times.“I couldn’t ask you do do that…” he says. 

I grin. “I know you’re not, but I’m insisting… as a friend.” I repeat his words from earlier. 

The corners of his mouth twitch and he relents, pulling open the door to sit in the passenger seat. My stomach does all sorts of flips and we look at each other. I pull away, trying to concentrate on driving, and not on Cullen sat next to me. 


	4. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen meets Solas for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter nice and early as a little Christmas present! Enjoy!

Her car is quite retro, and the bobblehead on the dashboard makes me smile. It had taken my every strength to not accept her lift in the first instance, but when she had insisted and repeated my line from earlier, I relented, not as reluctant. Even so, as soon as she had mentioned the word ‘boyfriend’, all glimmer of hope had extinguished. Still, as I fasten my seatbelt as she pulls away, I muse that she’s so … _likeable_ , that maybe being friends wouldn’t be too difficult. Perhaps this strange little crush I’m developing will be something we laugh about as friends in a few months. 

Even as I reassure myself of this, I can’t help but feel deflated. In the last few months of a spiraling darkness, the song of lyrium tempting me, she has already been a bit of a beacon. I shake my head at the thoughts - I’ve only just met her! And yet meeting her, and being in her company has been a highlight.

“Are you ok?” she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I nod and open my mouth to reply with some small talk, but her phone vibrates nosily on the dashboard. Her eyes flick to it, but she keeps driving, ignoring it.

“Do you want me to get it?” I ask awkwardly.

“Can you see what the ID says?” she says, concentrating on driving.

I reach for her phone and see a selfie of Lyla and a guy - who I assume is her boyfriend - with the ID ‘Solas’. In the image, Lyla is grinning at the camera, her smile bright but not reaching her eyes and the man next to her has a whisper of a smile, but his face is stern, his eyebrows furrowed, his strong jaw jutting as if to protest.

“It says Solas…?”

“What, again?” She glances at me. “Just ignore it. I’ll call him when I’m home.”

I pop her phone on silent but it still insists on vibrating for another minute. We continue in silence until I feel brave enough to break it once the phone has stopped.

“So how long have you two been together?”

“Hmm, a few years now. We’re high school sweethearts,” she chuckles darkly, no trace of a smile. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and turn to look out of the window, Skyton’s Satinalia lights flashing by us.

“Is he at university too?” I ask conversationally.

“Yeah, in Denerim.”

Silence again, and I can tell I need to drop the topic. Something pulls in my stomach which I try to ignore. I study her reflection in the window. She’s chewing her bottom lip, glancing in her mirrors as she indicates off a deserted roundabout. I see her glance at me, but I don't think she can see that I’m looking at her, and assumes I’m just looking at the window. But her gaze lingers, and something in her expression changes - it softens. No, surely not. I just _want_ to think that it’s softening when looking at me. She has a boyfriend. High school sweethearts. I _must_ remember that.

Lyla pulls up outside of my old house, the one she now lives in. It’s only as she cuts the engine does she realise.

“Oh Creators, sorry! I was in autopilot. Where’s your house-”

“It’s ok, it’s just around the corner, I’ll walk.”

She smiles meekly and I climb out, not wanting to leave her company, yet desperate to be away at the same time. “Thanks for the lift,” I supply, rubbing my neck.

“Any time.”

She gives me a small wave and I turn down the street towards my cold mattress on the floor, craving for sleep but not wanting to be alone at all. Halfway down the road I peer over my shoulder to see her hesitate at the front door, keys in hand. Lyla looks in my direction, so I pick up my pace, my back to her and try not think about what that might mean, if anything.

* * *

I wake around midday, stretching luxuriously at the fact that I’ve had a lie-in for the first time in months. I can’t remember having such a dreamless sleep - I relish the fact. I roll onto my side, squeezing my eyes tight shut, desperate to make the most of more sleep, but it evades me. Nonetheless, I try for a few minutes until I give up and reach for my phone. I open a text from Cassandra:

<Cassandra P>  
[ _Hey. Want to pop over for a coffee?]_

The thought of caffeine and of possibly seeing Lyla again makes me sit up and stretch. I jump in the shower, avoid my housemates and dash out of the door, arriving at my old house only half an hour later. I ring the doorbell, my stomach doing all sorts of twists for reasons I’m reluctant to admit as to why.

Sera tugs the door open. “Oh hey, Cully Wully.”

“Please don’t call me that,” I sigh, following her into the house.

“No way,” she replies, grinning wickedly. I roll my eyes and head to the living room where Cassandra is reclining on the sofa, her legs tucked under her and her eyes glued to the television. I’m disappointed to see that she’s alone.

“Cullen! I knew the thought of coffee would bring you here,” she smiles.

I sit on the other sofa and stifle a yawn. “Everything alright?”

Cassandra leans back on the sofa and closes the door with her hand before turning seriously to me.

“Lyla’s boyfriend is here,” she says in a low voice.

I still, wanting very much to walk straight out of the house. There is no way I want to meet her boyfriend.

“So?” I say, in a strained voice.

Her eyes narrow. “That’s the thing - he’s just here, and Lyla’s not.” I frown so she continues. “Lyla picked him up from the station this morning, they went straight upstairs to her room, got _reacquainted_ , shall we say, then she left to go to the shops, but he didn’t go with her.”

I spread my hands. “And that’s a problem…?”

“I do not like him, Cullen,” Cassandra states, crossing her arms. “Lyla’s been gone for almost an hour and he’s just be sat in her room, not coming down to talk to any of us.”

“Well, you are kind of terrifying,” I smirk.

She throws a cushion at me, which I catch. “This is serious! There’s something about him, I just can’t place…”

The living room door opens and Lyla pops her head in and I hold my breath. “Hey Cassandra, can I borrow your phone charger? Oh hey Cullen,” she smiles.

“Yeah, let me just grab it,” Cassandra says, reaching to a plug socket by the television.

“Is it still ok for us to come to the cinema tomorrow?” Lyla asks me.

“Of course,” I reply instantly. “Although…”

“No worries if not,” she says quickly, tugging her hair behind her ears. I’m distracted for a moment when I see her sleeve slip down her arm a little and I glimpse what looks like a bruise on her wrist. She follows my eyes and quickly pulls up her sleeve to cover it. I frown then shake my head.

“Um, I was going to say that perhaps I ought to give you my number, so you can let me know what screening you want to come to,” I say, my mouth dry.

“Oh! Good idea.” Lyla pulls her phone out of her back pocket and swipes it open before passing it to me. “Punch your number in and I’ll save it.”

It’s such a casual thing, but I oblige with a smile, feeling Cassandra’s eyes flicking between us. Once done, I save my number as ‘Cullen Rutherford (from work)’ and pass it back to her.

Lyla’s eyebrows rise. “‘Rutherford from work’, huh?” she smiles. “Perhaps that should be your new nickname.”

“Well it’s better than what Sera insists on calling me.”

“And what’s that?”

“Nevermin-”

“Cully Wully,” Cassandra interrupts with a laugh.

A grin breaks out onto Lyla’s face and she laughs too, lifting my heart, even if I’m totally mortified.

“Thanks, Cass,” I mumble.

“Oh, she was going to find out sooner or later,” the Nevarran woman chuckles.

“I’d better go. Nice to see you!” Lyla says, backing out of the room, the door closing behind her.

“…Cullen?”

I look at Cassandra, realising I’d been staring after Lyla. I rub the back of my neck.

“Do you… do you like Lyla?” she asks, coming to sit next to me.

I shrug. “Sure. She’s a nice girl.”

“I mean _like_ , like,” Cassandra prods.

Of course I know what she means. I avoid her gaze. “What does it matter? She’s got a boyfriend.”

“Indeed,” she replies, turning back to the tv.

We sit and watch some awful daytime reality show in silence, my mind elsewhere. I try not to think of her lying on my old bed being intimate with that miserable guy I saw on her phone. My thoughts then imagine what I would do if I was up there with her, and not him. I shift on the sofa and stand abruptly, banishing those thoughts. Maker’s breath…

“Shall I make that coffee you promised me?”

* * *

I sit at the tiny little cinema box office, prepping the tills ready for the first showing of the day. It’s quiet here, and gives me a good chance to catch up on emails or read a book in-between screenings. I’m not on projection duties today, so I’m mostly on my own, serving occasional mid-week customers. I’ve been so engrossed in the novel I’m reading that I get a start when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I curiously open a text from an unknown number.

<Unknown>  
_[Hey Cullen, it’s Lyla Lavellan! Is it still ok to get two tickets for the film later? We were hoping to come to the 5pm screening.x]_

I rub my hands together, thinking of a dozen ways in which I can respond. I end up deleting and rewriting my reply several times over the next half an hour until I finally say:

_[No problem at all. Just come to the Box Office and I’ll give you your tickets. x]_

I then glance at the clock and wait with a strange mix of excitement of seeing Lyla again but also dread at knowing that I’m actually going to have to meet her boyfriend. There’s no getting around it. The afternoon drags on and I keep looking at the clock, almost hoping she changes her mind and doesn’t come to the cinema. But I’m wrong.

It’s Solas who enters the foyer first, looking around with narrowed eyes, his nose scrunched up as if he can smell something unpleasant. I recognise him instantly from his caller ID on Lyla’s phone. Then she herself steps into the foyer behind him, head bowed, only looking up when they approach the Box Office. With a start I realise that her eyes are rosy and red, as if she’s been crying. I try not to stare but it’s hard when Solas looks so unimpressed an uninterested in everything.

“Hello Lyla,” I say softly, and Solas turns his full attention to me, his eyes piercing as if he can read my thoughts.

“Solas, this is Cullen, who I work with at the Herald’s Rest,” Lyla explains, her voice quiet, neutral and unlike her. “Cullen, this is Solas-”

“Her boyfriend,” he interjects, crossing his arms.

I ignore his tone and pull the tickets out from under the counter. “Nice to meet you,” I say tightly, feigning a smile, not taking my eyes off Lyla.

Solas snatches the tickets from my hand, and grips Lyla by the elbow, insisting she follows him. They walk towards the screen and I peer out of the box office, watching with concern. As Solas checks the tickets, Lyla tries to look at me over her shoulder, but Solas does not miss a trick and pulls her into the screen.

I try to continue my duties, serving other customers for the screening without being distracted,  but all I can think about is Solas and Lyla, and how he had acted with Lyla. Her face swims in my mind with her head bowed and eyes red, and I can’t help but worry. A friend would worry, right?

When the film is on and there is silence in the foyer, I sweep the floor and run a few tasks. I hear the screen door open, a snippet of the movie leaks out before quickly being silenced. Lyla walks meekly out, looking around hesitantly. I pause and watch as she rubs her eyes, chewing her bottom lip and take a steadying breath.

“Lyla?” I enquire, my voice low.

She jumps. “Oh, Cullen! You made me jump!” she says, her voice tight.

I rest my broom against the wall. “Is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just a bit of a sad movie,” she lies. “I’d hate to blubber in front of a full cinema.”

I know for a fact that even though it’s a drama, that it is in no way a sad movie. I frown and open my mouth to say something, _anything_ , but the door to the screen opens again and Solas steps out, looking between us.

“Let’s go,” he says. It’s not a question. Lyla meekly follows him.

“Not enjoying the movie then?” I say lightly.

All I get is a glare from Solas before he pushes the doors open, Lyla trailing behind him. I watch them leave, resisting the urge to reach out, to question, to interfere. Instead I resume my sweeping knowing that it’s really none of my business.

* * *

Facepage group chat:

<Cassandra P.>  
Cullen, did you see Lyla and Solas at the cinema last night?

<Cullen R.>  
Yeah. I see what you mean about Solas.

<Cassandra P.>  
Really? What makes you say that?

<Cullen R.>   
Seems a jerk tbh. Think he hates me, but the feeling is mutual.

<Cassandra P.>  
He acts the same with Dorian. I think he gets jealous.

<Cullen R.>  
Of Dorian?!

<Cassandra P.>  
I know right. 

<Dorian P.>  
Excuuuuuse meeeee!

<Cullen R.>  
Sorry Dorian, I don't think you're Lyla’s type. 

<Cassandra P.>  
But you are? ;-) 

<Dorian P.>  
Oh what’s this?!!!!?

<Cullen R.>  
Nothing.

<Dorian P.>  
Must be MORE than nothing: Cass never uses winky faces!

<Sera>  
SOLAS IS A PRAT.

<Dorian P.>  
Thank you for your input Sera. We have already agreed on that fact.

<Sera>  
Wait does cully wully have a CRUSH. ??

<Cullen R.>   
Please stop.

<Sera>  
OMG CASS U WERE RITE!

<Dorian P.>  
I knew it!!!! <33 

<Cullen R.>   
I didn’t say anything…?!

<Cassandra P.>  
But you don’t deny it, do you…

<Cullen R.>   
I think you’re all forgetting that she has a boyfriend.

<Sera>  
Yeah a boyfriend WHO IS A TOTAL PRAT. 

* * *

I end up working with Lyla at the Herald’s Rest during the week leading up to Satinalia. By chance, I’m working every single shift with her, although by the way Leliana smirks at me whenever I mention as much, I know that she’s been talking to Cassandra and Dorian. It’s obviously not a coincidence.

Lyla speaks nothing of the cinema trip, and I’m loathe to bring it up, so leave it be. Indeed, she doesn’t even mention Solas at all, only to say that he went back to Denerim a day later, and that she’s driving up there for Satinalia celebrations. Whenever I ask of she’s got any plans whilst in Denerim, she swiftly changes the subject and we end up slipping back into what’s becoming a very natural routine of working around each other during busy times at the bar. She ducks if I need to reach over her for a glass, or I lean back if she has to get something in front of me on the bar.

In any downtime at the pub we converse easily, and I find myself stammering less around her and actually becoming to consider her as a friend. She brightens and laughs more in the days after Solas’ departure and I can’t help but think the two are connected. But I know our friendship is still new, and to pry with concern would be just a little too soon to test the boundaries of our friendship.

Instead we work like a well-oiled machine, and she often gives me a lift home from work, if we're both working late. The car journeys are less uncomfortable and more relaxed and I find my disappointment of her having a boyfriend fading.

It’s the eve of Satinalia, and when she pulls up outside of the house late in the afternoon before her drive to Denerim, she touches my arm, stopping me from leaving.

“Cullen,” she says slowly.

I look at her, noting her downcast face. “You ok?”

She nods and smiles, reaching behind the driver’s seat. “Yeah… here you go - Happy Satinalia.”

Lyla holds out a red envelope with my name on it in loopy handwriting. I offer her a lop-sided grin as I say, “And here I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh, that's ok! I wasn't expecting anything…”

I grin. “Well neither was I.” Excitedly, I pull a small box out of my jacket and hold it in my hands, but Lyla doesn’t notice.

“It’s nothing really! I just… just wanted to say thanks for putting up with me.” Her cheeks are tinged with pink, and she can’t seem to look at me.

“There’s nothing to ‘put up with,’” I say honestly, taking the envelope from her and opening it. The card is small and square with a traditional Satinalia country scene on the cover. I open it and read her short message, but there’s a little sachet stuck to the inside.

“It’s a portion of the most expensive coffee,” she explains hurriedly. “Thought you might enjoy it, although I couldn’t afford more, so make the most of it.”

I laugh and look at her, astounded by her thoughtfulness. “You shouldn’t have - thank you.”

“I know we haven’t been friends long, but I saw this coffee and knew I had to get it. Sorry if it’s strange to give you a gift and-”

I hold up a hand smiling. “Lyla, why are you apologising for giving a gift?”

She tilts her head to the side. “You know, I don’t know why. If you don’t like it tough - it’s the thought that counts.”

“Yeah, but I love it,” I laugh, bringing the sachet up to my nose to smell. “It’s actually my favourite coffee.”

“Hmm, now you’re just being over-polite.”

“Nope, honestly.”

“Well then you’ve got very expensive tastes.”

We laugh and fall into a companionable silence. I stuff the card carefully back in the envelope and pass her the little box. She frowns as she accepts it.

“What’s this…?”

“A gift.”

“Well obviously, but… but why?”

I shrug. “I like buying gifts for everyone,” I lie smoothly, my answer already prepared. “Although Dorian took it completely the wrong way the first time I bought _him_ a Satinalia gift.”

She chuckles and opens the box, my breath held in anticipation. Lyla gasps a little ‘oh’ as she pulls out the simple necklace with a book pendant on the end.

“I…I’m…” she stammers.

“Look closer at the book,” I say, pointing.

She brings it up to her face. “Jayne Ayres!” she mouths in surprise.

I rub the back of my neck, my stomach twisting in glee at her reaction. She looks between me and the gift and back again before twisting in her seat and leaning forward to hug me. I instantly freeze, my hands clammy, unsure how to react. She chuckles and pulls away, patting my arm fondly.

“Sorry, I should've mentioned that I'm a bit of a hugger.”

I scramble for something to say but she just chuckles and glances at the time on her dashboard. “Oh shit, I’ve got to go.”

“Sorry!” I say, pushing open the passenger door. I finally get out the car, loathe to leave her company. “When are you back in Skyton?” I ask.

She shrugs, leaning over the passenger seat. “Not sure yet. I’ll give you a text. And Cullen?” I pause. “Thank you.”

I smile. “Happy Satinalia - drive safe.”

She waves and pulls away, leaving me standing on the side of the road, her card clutched in my hands, looking after her long after the little red car has disappeared.


	5. Lyla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla visits Solas for the festive season but it's not as happy as she would like. 
> 
> *Non-con scene in this chapter*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief scene of non-consensual sex. I don’t usually add author comments but please, if you’re reading this and have been or are currently in a similar situation, even if you’re in a relationship, please know that you’re not alone. It’s horrible. I beg you, to please get out. Please. I wish I had known sooner.

My drive to Denerim is completely uneventful. The evening grows darker and I blast out cheesy, seasonal music, but I’ve no heart to sing along. With every mile that passes, I find myself dreading the approach more and more. I’m reluctant to admit it, but leaving Skyton and driving to Denerim is the last thing I actually want to do. I find myself yearning to turn around head straight back to Skyton, to the people who I’m quickly becoming fast friends with. 

My fingers subconsciously play with the little book pendant around my neck whenever I’m stopped at traffic lights. I try not think about what that might mean. I’m pulled out of my thoughts when, on the passenger seat, my phone rings. Keeping my eyes on the road, I reach for my phone, accept the call and pop it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“ _Hey, it’s me!_ ” an excitable voice replies.

I grin at the sound of my younger sister’s voice. “Hey Fallow. How are you?”

“ _I’m good! Are you in Denerim_?”

“Just driving there at the moment.”

“ _Oh! Well I was just calling to wish you and Solas a Happy Satinalia_!”

I smile. “Thanks sweetpea - you too.”

“ _I popped your present in the post last week, so it should be at Solas’ apartment when you get there, but don’t open it until tomorrow, okay?”_

“Alright, I promise I won’t open it.”

“ _Good_!”

“How is Aunt Deshanna?” I ask.

“ _She’s fine - a bit tired, but it’s nice just watching Satinalia movies with her. We’re seeing the rest of the Lavellan Clan tomorrow_.”

“That will be manic,” I chuckle. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

Fallow clicks her tongue. “ _So_ now _you apologise… I’m only joking. You’re lucky to be away from the madhouse reunion. I’m just looking forward to the food_.”

“Well make sure you tell everyone I miss them and all that.”

“ _Will do, big sis. It won’t be the same without you!_ ”

“Stop trying to suck up - I am not paying for your flights to Orlais.”

_“But-”_

“Fallow, I am a poor student myself, don’t forget.”

“ _I know, I know, but Aunt Deshanna is still adamant I don’t go to Orlais until I’m eighteen_!”

“Aunt Deshanna is usually right about most things - you should listen to her.” 

My sister sighs dramatically down the phone. “ _You’re plotting with her, aren’t you_?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Look, I’m gonna have to go, the line is starting to break up.”

“ _Okay… I miss you_.”

“I miss you too, sweetpea. I’ll give you a text tomorrow, okay?”

“ _Mmm okay_.”

“Happy Satinalia.”

“ _Happy Satinalia, Lyla. Love you!_ ”

“Love you too.”

It’s almost midnight by the time I park outside Solas’s apartment building. I cut the engine and sit in the car for a few minutes, preparing myself. It is with much reluctance that I realise that coming here is the last place I want to be right now. Things with Solas have not been good for a few months, and have got even worse since I moved to Skyton. I feel us drifting apart, and the thought scares me. As high school sweethearts, we don’t know anything else - I’ve never even kissed another person, other than him.

I close my eyes and try to remember how I used to feel about him when we were studying at school together. It had started as a sweet little romance with flowers and chocolates. Things went slow and it was exciting to have a boyfriend and to be naive about everything that entailed.

As I mull over my thoughts and what it could mean, my attention is drawn to a couple walking down the street on the other side of the road. They stop at the corner, just away from me. I watch as the man tucks a strand of hair behind the woman’s ear affectionately before drawing her into a kiss. It’s dark so I can’t see their faces, but that tender touch is something I know I’m yearning for. The couple say farewell, and the figure walks towards the same apartment block that Solas lives at, fiddles with his keys and enters the building.

I glance at my phone, noting the late hour and give Solas a text.

_[I’m outside. Can you help me bring my bags up to your flat?]_

A few minutes later, the door to the building opens and a figure saunters over to the passenger window. I roll it down.

“Hey,” Solas says, his face the usual expressionless mask.

I climb out of the car and he helps me with my luggage. We say little to each other as I follow him up, my mind shattered from the shift at work and the drive across. His flat is small and poky and the other flatmate is away for the holiday season, so it’s just us two. Before, that thought would’ve filled me with giddy joy, but now I have this strange, empty sense of dread.

“If it’s okay, I might just head to bed…?” I say, once the car is unloaded.

He obliges and after digging out my pyjamas, I slide into the single bed, getting as close to the wall as possible. Solas peers around the door once I’m settled, my eyes already drooping.

“I’m just going to finish watching this programme on PrimeFlix in the living room. I’ll come to bed soon,” he says.

I stifle a yawn, my eyes closing. “Alright…”

* * *

Sleep takes me before Solas has even backed out of the room. It’s a deep sleep and I dream of being at my room in Skyton, sat on my bed chatting with Cullen. He’s grinning and I feel incredibly happy: the room is light and warm and I’m drawn to his smiling amber eyes. He’s bold and kisses me, but I kiss him back, enjoying it, wondering if this is real, knowing that it’s not. I feel guilty, it tugs the corners of my mind so I pull away and Cullen is gone. His face turns into Solas’ - the expression harsh and full of accusation. Cullen is gone and it’s Solas. His hands are everywhere, rough on my body, leaving unpleasant marks on my skin, purple bruises that will take weeks to fade. I ignore them and submit.

I wake slowly in the pitch dark to hear grunting behind me. I face the wall but it’s so dark in Solas’s flat that I cannot even see my hands in front of my face. There’s sharp, stinging pain down below, and Solas is pressed up tight against me. I pretend to still be asleep as his hands press heavily down on my hips as he selfishly takes his pleasure. The pain is sharp, like I’m being pulled apart, but I’m loathe to cry, knowing he will not like it if I do. Instead I lie as still as possible as he ploughs into me, harder and harder, my head occasionally knocking against the wall. I bite the inside of my cheek as hard as possible and count numbers in my head to distract myself and ignore the sensations. I know this is wrong - I do - but it’s become such a regular occurrence of when we meet that I let him get on with it. That way, it will be over sooner. It will be easier. Quicker. Over and done with.

His release is rough and swift and I thank the Creators that it’s over, my eyes tight shut as I pretend to sleep. I feel him shuffle on the narrow bed, feel his hot breath on my cheek and I pray that he cannot see that I’m awake. My stomach churns in anxiety, the bile rising in my mouth, but he lies back down with a sigh and soon begins snoring. I lie still, sleep evading me as I'm wide awake, tasting blood as I bite my lip so hard it bleeds.

I wait and wait until I hear the distant chime of a distant chantry clock sounding five times. I shuffle in the bed and slide out the bottom, Solas not stirring, his snores louder. I find my pyjama bottoms on the foot of the bed and pull them on, hating the cold sticky fluid stuck to my thighs. The same bile rises from my gut again, but I stifle a cough and slip out of the room and pad lightly towards the bathroom.

The bathroom is tiny and in dire need of a good clean, but I run the bath, the warm water so inviting. I peer out of the steamy window, wiping it with my palm and look out at the city below where lights are just turning on and people are stirring to open their first Satinalia presents. I fight back the tears, feeling a strange emptiness as I shuffle out of my sleepwear and step into the scalding hot bath, knowing that it’s burning my skin, but compared to the pain in-between my legs, it’s a welcome distraction.

I wash slowly at first, using the hard bar of soap as gently as possibly over my skin. But as I continue, I feel desperate and angry at myself. Is this what all relationships are like? They can’t be, can they? In the books I’ve read, the movies I’ve watched, they call it love making. But this isn’t like that - there’s no delicate intimacy, just an urgent need I don’t reciprocate. I scrub hard at my skin, rub the bar roughly in between my thighs, craving the cleanliness, an urge to be rid of every spot of skin where he has touched me, abused me.

Abused? I still, my soapy hands, falling in the water. Am I abused? I do not know. We are in a relationship, so that’s consent, isn't it? I shake my head. I have to get out. I must get out.

I jump out of the bath, the sky now lighter. I hear the chantry bell chime seven o’clock and so I quickly dry and dress myself in the living room, where my suitcase has been opened and rummaged through. I silently thank myself for giving the cards I had given Cullen and Dorian to them back in Skyton, rather than after, otherwise I know Solas would’ve flipped if he found out.  I search for my familiar jeans and a warm jumper and sit on the sofa, hugging my knees, flicking through the early morning television channels, waiting for him to wake and pretend we’re a normal, perfect couple celebrating Satinalia together.

It’s many hours later - almost midday - when Solas finally saunters into the living room, a small, poorly wrapped gift in his hands.

“Happy Satinalia,” he says with a yawn, passing it to me.

I force a smile, my resolve of getting out fading as I mumble a humble ‘thank you’ and pull open the gift. I ignore my flicker of anger licking my stomach as the paper falls away to reveal a generic bubble bath gift set I know he probably picked up from the supermarket last night. My hand reaches up and plays with the little book charm Cullen gave me and I ignore the flutter that thought gives me.

Solas’s eyes follow my hand and he frowns. “Where did you get that?”

I gulp, terror freezing me to the seat. “It was a Satinalia gift from a friend,” I reply.

“Which friend?”

“Does it matter?”

“Which. Friend,” he repeats, voice firm.

I avoid his gaze as I stand. “It was from… Dorian,” I lie, hating the way it tastes on my mouth, knowing that the truth would be much worse.

He steps so close to me I can feel his breath on my forehead, making me squirm involuntary. He grasps my wrists, holding them tight and forcing them in front of me, so I have no choice but to look at him.

“Are you cheating on me with that Tevinter man?” he demands, voice rising.

Despite being terrified of his demeanour, I force back the laughter at the thought. “I’m pretty sure I’m not Dorian’s type.”

He shakes me. “What the fuck does that mean?”

I glare at him. “Solas, you’re scaring me.”

“Tell me the truth!” he shouts.

“I am!” I cry, the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. He pushes me away in disgust and I sink on the sofa, sobbing, ignoring my bruised wrists.

“You’re a filthy fucking liar, you know that?” he hisses.

I ignore him, my crying wracking my body as I shake, the sobs coming thick and fast. I rock on the sofa, trying to take deep breaths, but not wanting to. He sits next to me, waiting for me to stop but I cannot. I want to slip away, to disappear and not feel this, but he takes my hand firmly and I look at him. I see his stern jaw jut forward as he controls his obvious anger. I look into his grey eyes, scared of what I’ll see, but I finally slow my breathing, fight for a deep steadying breath.

“You know I love you, right?” he says.

Instantly I nod in reply. It’s a well rehearsed move.

“I love you so much that I cannot _stand_ the thought of you not being with me,” he continues.

“Can you see how you receiving a gift from another man might make _me_ feel?” 

I suck in a shaking breath and nod again, not daring to speak.

“I can't even think about losing you. Of your being with someone else. It makes me sick.”

“Solas, I'm not cheat-” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I’m not finished,” he glares, then does something so strange, so out of character that I stop crying completely. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. Like that couple I saw the night before. I watch him closely. “I just… we have to stay as a couple, to prove those school friends wrong, that distances can work. But you need to trust me.” His voice is low.

He leans forward and kisses me. I keep my eyes open as I watch him close his, watch him wrap his arms around me, steal kiss after kiss, even though my face is wet, even though the tears are falling fresh. I let him continue. I know I cannot object, that I do not want more bruises. I submit as I sob silently, closing my eyes, not wanting to see how he’s taking advantage of me, pushed down on the sofa. His hands are unpleasantly rough, tugging my jeans down, gripping my arms tight with one hand as I try to keep my legs shut. He forces them open and takes me and this time I do cry and it’s oh, so much worse that it was this morning, but I cannot keep hold of my resolve any longer.

* * *

I lie on my side on the sofa, watching a cheesy Fereldan Satinalia comedy, but I’m not paying attention. I feel empty, like there’s a void inside me. I don’t want to move. Lying here, not feeling and not thinking is a relief and a break. I need to feel nothing as it’s better than feeling anything else right now.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I glance at the caller ID. It’s my sister, Fallow. My thumb hovers over the ‘answer’ button, but I ignore it. I think if I spoke to my sister now I would break down and Solas will return from the kitchen and listen to each fake word I say to her. I don’t want to lie to Fallow, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to avoid.

Solas walks back into the living room, a plate of food in his hands and flops on the adjacent sofa. My phone buzzes in my pocket and he glances over.

“Who’s that?” he asks, as casual as he likes.

I sit up, careful that my phone screen is away from him, no way he can see what my lock screen says. I glance at the notifications - three missed calls from Fallow, two texts from Dorian, an instant message from Cassandra and Sera and a text from Cullen. I press my lips together, the lie forming naturally.

“Just a text from my sister, wishing us both a Happy Satinalia.”

He grunts in reply and resumes eating his snack, believing me. I unlock my phone and quickly read each message:

<Cassandra>   
[ _Hey, hope you’re having a nice Satinalia! It’s just me and Dorian here today, and his cooking is awful. Cullen might visit later, if I can drag him away from work! Hope you’re back soon!x]_

I smile at her words, wishing that I was there, celebrating with them. I try to imagine sitting around the small table in the house with Cassandra, Dorian and Cullen, a bottle of wine open and burnt food on our plates. I imagine we would all be laughing and making ridiculous toasts. It makes me feel warm and I have this intense sense of longing. I squeeze my eyes tight shut, forcing the images out of my head. I read the next message.

<Sera>  
[ _hey you i’m coming to Denerim tomorrow - wanna hang out??]_

I glance at Solas who is watching the film with a disinterested expression. Do I want to hang out with Sera? Yes. Do I want to hang out with her here? No, not here. I don't want anyone to know about this place. I decide to leave the message for now, and work out the best time to bring it up with Solas and see when he thinks I’ll be able to see her. So I move on to my texts.

<Dorian P.>  
[ _Merry Satinalia my darling Lyla! Lots of love!xx_ ]

This is followed by:

<Dorian P.>  
[ _We miss you dearly. Please come back soon. Cassandra and Cullen have just hit the wine and can’t keep up with me. I’m embarrassed for them. xx_ ]

Chuckling, I glance at the tv at a humorous moment, and Solas laughs too (probably thinking I’m enjoying the film). I turn back to my phone and hesitate as my finger hovers over Cullen’s unread message. I’m not sure why, but seeing his name with a message to me makes my stomach do a strange twist that’s not unpleasant. It’s a nice sensation. I chew my lip and open it, which was sent a few hours ago.

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford.>  
[ _I tried that coffee you got me this morning and it was amazing! Thanks again. Hope you’re having a good time in Denerim. x_ ] 

I don’t even hesitate as I hit reply.

[ _Hey, happy Satinalia! Glad you enjoyed the coffee. I’m watching that awful Ferelden comedy about nugs on tv. It’s painful. x_ ]

Moments later, my phone buzzes a reply from Cullen and my hands feel clammy as I open it up.

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford.>  
[ _haha, that film is an annual tradition here. we got a drinkhing game to go with it. You should try it!!_ ]

I punch a reply, a smile tracing my lips.  
[ _I think a drinking game would certainly improve it. I’ll participate next year, promise! x_ ]

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford.>  
[ _I’m gigoing to hold yyou to that promiseee!! xxx_ ] 

I stare at my phone, at Cullen’s slurred responses and try not to burst out laughing, my heart feeling light. It’s not hard to miss those extra crosses at the end of the text. I quickly lock my phone and slide it back in my pocket, as I feel Solas’ eyes on me.

“Something funny?” Solas asks, voice low, dangerous, threatening.

I shake my head. “Fallow just told me that a step cousin just ran into a room singing in nothing but an apron. It’s so bizarre,” I lie. Well, it’s half the truth - that _did_ happen one year.

Solas rolls his eyes at my extended family’s antics, but then laughs at something funny on the tv. As the film breaks for adverts, I approach the subject of returning to Skyton.

“Um... I think I’ll have to head back to Skyton tomorrow, Solas.” I hold my breath.

He doesn’t even look at me. “Tomorrow? Yeah ok.”

I blink. That easy? “You sure?”

“Mmmhmm, I’ve got some friends to see tomorrow anyway.”

A wave of cold washes over me. “Oh,” I say. Was he hoping I would leave tomorrow anyway? And here I had been sat, worrying over leaving early. I’m not sure what, but I push my luck.

“I think it will have to be first thing in the morning. Just want to get on the road before the bad traffic,” I explain, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

He nods. “Sure.”

I let out my held breath slowly and pull out my phone, opening Sera’s message.

[ _Hey, I’m driving back to Skyton tomorrow afternoon, want a lift home? I’ll meet you in town at 10am?_ ]

Solas doesn’t need to know I'm leaving early to meet a friend before going home. Telling him would cause more trouble than it’s worth. Sera’s reply is quick.

<Sera>  
[ _yayyyy! and yea a lift would be perf. see you tomorrowwwwwww!!!!!!_ ] 

My feelings are returning. I just have to stay here for one more night and then I’m free to go back to the life I’m starting to love, away from Solas.


	6. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen wakes up with a terrible hangover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is late! Life has been mad as I quit my job. Yikes! Anyway, next update will be next week so we'll be back on schedule. Thank you for reading! Your reviews keep me so, so motivated. ^^

**Cullen**

I think I can smell bacon.

Oh Maker, _please_ can that be bacon? My head is so heavy and fuzzy, I'm not certain. I know that opening my eyes will be painful and bright. Bright is not a good feeling. I just want to sleep.

But _bacon_ …

I try to open my eyes but they're heavy and crusted with sleep. There's something dangling above my face (I think, anyway), but it's blurred. I scrunch my eyes tight then ping them open in a desperate attempt to wake up. But… am I still dreaming? Lyla is standing over me, that little pendant dangling before my eyes. She smiles a wide grin.

"Afternoon, Cullen," she chuckles.

I blink slowly, her blurred features sharpening as I come to realise that I'm not dreaming. She is standing above me, crossing her arms, an amused smile playing on her lips. And, oh Maker, I've just realised that I've missed her. I scold myself silently - she's only been gone for two days. But then I remember that she's been with her boyfriend, and my gut churns uncomfortably at the thought. I rub my head - perhaps my stomach is churning because I am, admittedly, hanging.

"I'm making some bacon sandwiches, if you would like one…?" she asks, smothering a laugh as I try to sit up on the sofa. Despite how gross and groggy I'm feeling, I'm not afraid to admit to myself that my mood has been greatly lifted by having _her_ wake me up.

"Bacon sandwich?" I repeat, my voice scratchy and painful.

Lyla nods and chuckles. "I assume that's a 'yes'. Well, stay here and I'll make one for you too." She practically skips out of the room and I frown, flopping back down on the sofa, wanting to fall back into the Fade, but the promise of a bacon sandwich is too tempting.

The living room door opens again and this time Cassandra shuffles in, still in her pyjamas, a thick, furry dressing gown wrapped around her. She mutters "Mornin'" to me before curling up on the other sofa.

"Pretty sure it's the afternoon," I rasp, rubbing my forehead.

Minutes later, Dorian enters slowly, his feet dragging in his slippers, a purple blanket pulled up over his head so only his face is exposed. He sits himself down next to Cassandra who tucks her knees up, raising her voice to protest only to give up.

"How… how much did we drink?" I wonder aloud.

"Too much," Cassandra grumbles, pulling her dressing gown up to her chin, crossing her arms as tight as possible.

"You're both _lightweights_ ," Dorian says flatly, staring at the wall opposite, his face glazed.

Lyla pushes the living room door open with her hip, balancing three plates of bacon sandwiches in her hands. She stops in her tracks when she sees us three and bursts out laughing. If it wasn't at my expense, then I would think her light little laugh charming and sweet, but my head doesn't agree right now. It feels so heavy. It hurts.

"Oh you three are a _sight_ ," she laughs. "You're luck Sera didn't find you like this. Here - eat these sarnies."

She hands out a plate to each of us and I wolf my sandwich down as quickly as possible, grateful for the extra-crispy bacon. Never in my life has a bacon sandwich tasted so good.

"This bacon sandwich is Maker-sent," I mumble between mouthfuls.

She perches on the edge of the same sofa as me, watching us devour her bacon sandwiches. "If you think these are good, you should taste my apple pie," she smiles, then looks horrified, her face turning red. Dorian bursts into laughter. "N-not like t-that!" she says hurriedly, tugging her hair behind her ears. I smile at her discomfort, finding it rather endearing to see such a reaction from her accidental innuendo.

I feel Dorian's eyes on me which I refuse to meet. When I glance up, I see Cassandra and Dorian exchange a sly look and I resist the urge to snap at them. Maker's breath, could they at least be a _bit_ more subtle?

* * *

The Santilia celebration with them both had been fun, but now that the bacon sandwich is doing its work of sobering me up, I'm remembering more of the previous day than I would like. It had started as normal; exchanging small gifts with one another and the like, but then the drinking had begun. I like to think I an hold my drink as well as the next man, but Dorian's Tevinter resilience is something to be admired in comparison. Without a doubt he drank twice as much and was sober enough to probe enough questions out of me that I should not have answered.

Then Dorian had suggested playing the teenage game of 'truth or dare'. Admittedly, after many glasses of sherry, beer and wine, it seemed like a fun idea. Oh yes, fun indeed.

"Alright Cullen, your turn - Truth or Dare?" Cassandra said in between a sip of beer.

I sat cross-legged on the floor and rubbed my back, where my previous 'dare' of doing a backflip off the sofa had gone horribly wrong.

"Think it would be safer if I say 'Truth'," I grinned, taking swig of beer.

Cassandra pursed her lips before looking at Dorian. A wicked smile - one I have never known Cassandra to do - crossed her face.

"How do you _feel_ about Lyla?"

I remember taking a deep gulp of my beer before answering her question. "Do I have to tell the truth?"

"Yes," Dorian and Cassandra said in unison.

What had I been thinking? Well, I guess I hadn't been thinking. Like the good, honest man I am, I gave them the truth.

"I'm falling in love with her," I said, unashamed. "Next?"

But when I looked up, I realised what I had said. And I had said it so _casually_ that I'm still not sure how I managed it. I hadn't even admitted that to myself. Dorian and Cassandra had stared at me, mouths open, like they were catching flies. Needless to say, they did _not_ let me live it down for the rest of the evening, so I had decided the best course of action would be to drink so much I would pass out and forget the whole thing. I did pass out, but I can, sadly, still remember everything. Maker's breath…

* * *

Sometime after eating, I think we all dozed off. This time when I wake, I feel a bit more human: head not as heavy, eyes not so crusty, nausea fading. I peer around the room, noting the looping DVD menu for the film we'd put on earlier. Dorian is sprawled out on the adjacent sofa, mouth open, Cassandra nowhere in sight. To my left, my chest tightens at the sight of Lyla, legs tucked up, head on the armrest, fast asleep. I turn slowly and reach for a blanket and carefully drape it over her. She stirs in her sleep but does not wake, and reluctantly I back out of the living room.

I should not be here. I should not torture myself in this way. And yet my mind, now much more awake than it was before, is all too aware that she had fallen asleep on the sofa next to me. Maker, for all I know, she could've fallen asleep on me. That thought fills me with shameless delight and dread. I _cannot_ think this way, about her. But there's some part of me that wants to take these small pleasures, these little instances and coincidences. Is that really so wrong?

Voices behind the closed kitchen door make me pause as I pull on my shoes. I'm not usually one to eaves drop, but then this house never usually has closed doors. I shuffle as silently as possible and recognise Cassandra's voice.

"…t do you mean?"

Sera replies, her voice low and quiet. "I dunno. There's somethin' goin' on, right? And it's… it's not good."

"With Lyla?" Cassandra whispers. I lean in closer, almost pressing my ear to the door.

"Ah. I dunno, alright?" Sera sighs in frustration. "It's just… right, when she picked me up in Denerim yeah, she'd come from Solas' place."

"Well of course she had. She was having Satinalia there."

"I know that! But… when she was drivin', yeah, I saw her wrists. Cassy, she had _bruises_. I swear, if it's that prat who's-"

"Wait, Sera, wait. I know Solas isn't exactly… _likeable_ , but if you're saying what I think you're saying-"

"I dunno alright! Sorry I said anythin' yeah."

Sera pulls the door open and stops in her tracks. She blinks then pushes past me, muttering under her breath. She runs up the stairs, taking two at a time and moments later I hear her bedroom door slam shut. Cassandra raises an eyebrow at me.

"Were you eavesdropping, Cullen?" she asks wearily.

"I…" Rubbing the back of my neck, I glance at the closed living room door. "What was Sera on about?"

The Nevarran woman sighs in exasperation. "Sera's just speculating. It's none of our business. Anyway, glad to see you're awake."

"Cassandra, what I said-"

"Cullen, I'm far too tired and hungover to care. But know this - I won't say a word." She pats my arms and walks past me up the stairs.

I let out a breath, and lean against the wall. It's only now that I think to check my phone. And there are… wait, how many missed calls? Alarmed I listen to my voice mail from Leliana.

" _Cullen, where the hell are you? You're meant to be working! Call me as soon as you can_."

Another message follows. " _Cullen, you're making us worried. I can't get hold of Cassandra either. Please call us back_."

Oh, shit.

I run into the living room and scan the room for my satchel. Lyla stirs as I accidentally knock her knee. She blinks up wearily at me. "You okay?"

"Fine," I mutter, rummaging around for my wallet. Shit, shit, shit! How could I forget that I offered to work at the pub?

Lyla sits up, pulling her hair out her eyes. "What is it?"

"Forgot I'm meant to be at work," I grumble, angry at my own stupidity. Maker forbid I relax and enjoy myself for more than a day, oh no.

"Let me give you a lift," Lyla says, jumping to her feet.

My chest swells again. I should decline, I should insist that I get a bus, or run into town. But I find myself accepting her offer, following her out of the house, getting into the passenger seat of her freezing car. We say little to each other and I realise I haven't even asked about her own Santilia.

"Did you have a nice time in Denerim?" I enquire, as we sit at some traffic lights.

Instantly, she visibly stiffens, clutching the steering wheel tight. I can't help but think back to what I'd heard Sera say earlier. Out of curiosity, feeling ashamed as I do so, I peer to see her wrists, but her jumper is pulled up and she's wearing gloves. I scold myself - it's none of my business.

"It was fine," she says tightly.

"Fine?" I repeat.

"Yes," she says bluntly.

I know I should drop the subject, but I can't. There's something niggling at me, wanting to pry a little more.

"I…" Hesitating, I rub my neck. "We're friends, aren't we Lyla?"

Her eyes flick to me before she nods.

"So, what's up? Has something happened?" I ask.

She sighs and keeps on driving through the quiet streets of Skyton. "I don't know, Cullen. I don't think things are great right now between Solas and I… but I don't know."

I shift in my seat. "We can talk about it if you like…?"

A small smile tugs her lips. "Thank you, but I'm okay.. really," she insists at my raised eyebrow. I drop the subject and look out the window. "Besides," she continues, "I don't want to bore you with my problems."

"You could never bore me," I grin, foolishly.

She laughs. "You're only saying that because I'm driving you to work! How did you manage to forget, anyway? Leliana's going to skin you alive."

"Ah, well trust me to have more than two days off work. Knew it was too good to be true." I sigh. "I guess, for the first time in months, I was able to relax and not have any of my headaches."

"Headaches?" Lyla asks, frowning.

Oh crap, did I let that slip? "I…" damnit, I don't want her to know about that, about my past, any of it!

"Cullen," she says slowly. "Trust and friendship goes both ways, you know."

"Alright… but… It's just… Lyla: I'm a bit messed up and would understand if… if you didn't want to be my friend-"

"I'm not going to stop being your friend."

"You say that now," I try and joke, but I can't quite find the heart to laugh about it. She shoots me a look and I rub the back of my neck. "Well, I… get really bad migraines. And I tend to keep busy to distract myself."

"That can't be healthy…"

I sigh. "Yeah… well it's because I was in… in Kirkwall," I say quickly, looking at anywhere but her.

A low whistle. "Shit, Cullen."

"Yeah, I know."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay, honestly."

"No, but I pushed you and-"

"No! No, you could never have known, I-"

We talk over each other and then stop. I grin and she laughs. And it's funny because the rest of the drive is us just laughing. I'm not sure why but we can't stop and Maker's breath, is it refreshing.

She pulls up outside the pub and cuts the engine. I peer up at the bar and look back at her, our laughter fading, my chest feeling light. But there are tears in her eyes.

"Lyla, what is it?" I ask. It takes all my control to not reach over and touch her hand on the hand-break. Not to reach out and comfort her. Those are not tears of laughter.

She wipes her eyes furiously. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I… I just haven't laughed like that in a long time."

I smile weakly. "That's nothing to cry about though, is it?"

A teary little laugh and a smile. She tilts her head to the side. "Cullen?"

"Mm?" I reply. She's close. Far too close. I can smell her perfume. It's sweet, light and cool. I think something passes between us as I meet her eyes. They are bright, green and full of teary laughter. I want to fall into them. I dare not.

"Um, you should, ah…" she begins, looking down at her spread hands. "Leliana's going to kill you if you stay out here any longer."

I nod and smile. I pretend that whatever just happened, didn't happen. She's a friend, nothing more. Perhaps she will be a good friend, one I can trust; one who I want to be happy. But she's a friend I know I'm… coming to love; and as I step out the car and wave to her as she drives off, I know I'm in too deep, and this is going to hurt. And yet, I'm reluctant to let that stop me from wishing.


	7. Lyla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla starts to reevaluate her friendships and relationships.

“Are we friends?”

I look up from my desk. I’ve been pouring over the textbooks ready to start uni next week and I didn’t hear Sera come up. She stands in my doorway, leaning against the frame, looking down at her feet. Strange; it’s rather meek of her. 

“Of course we are - well, I hope we are,” I smile. 

She shuffles into my room and sits on my bed. I swivel in my chair and turn my music down. “What’s up?” 

“You really wanna know?” she asks, twisting her hands in front of her. 

I frown. “Only if you want to tell me,” I say gently. 

She puffs her cheeks, starts a sentence a few times before blurting out: “What’s the deal with Solas?” 

It’s as if a bucket of ice has been chucked over me. I blink several times before saying in a voice, more level than I feel; “W-what do you mean?” 

“Sorry, but I don’t like him.”

I take a steadying breath. “Sera-”

“Does he hurt you?” 

I stare at her, repeating her question in my mind. Does he hurt me? Oh, yes he does. Can I tell her that? Can I tell _anyone_ that? No. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say carefully, turning back in my chair to my work. I thumb a page in a textbook and pretend to write down a note. “Solas and I are just going through a… rough patch, that's all,” I explain patiently, my voice surprisingly level. 

Sera doesn't reply. A few minutes later she gets up with a huff and stalks out of my room, slamming the door behind her. I stare at the back of my bedroom door, feeling empty. It takes me a few minutes to notice the tears spilling from my eyes. Droplets fall on my notes, blurring the ink, so I wipe my eyes furiously. I push myself up from my chair and flop down on my bed, bringing a pillow of my face, as I sob silently into it. I don’t feel anything, and that’s what scares me. It’s almost as if I’m still sat at my desk, watching a girl cry but feeling no emotional attachment, like a dull television show.

I know Sera is trying but I cannot tell anyone. What would Solas do if he found out I had told a friend - or anyone for that matter - that I _think_ he’s abusing me? To be fair, I’ve never really brought the subject up with him. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t realise that he’s hurting me. 

I steady my breathing and pull my pillow away. Yes, that’s got to be it. I’m not abused. Neither of us know any better. First relationship. All the magazines and movies say that _communication is key_. My stomach clenches - when was the last time we actually sit down and talked? Have we… _ever_? 

My phone buzzes on my desk. I reach forward look at the ID, noting a text from Cullen. But the caller ID takes up most of the screen. It’s a picture of Solas and I over a year ago. I’m smiling in the picture. Was I happy? 

I swipe my phone to answer the call. “Heya,” I say, voice muffled from little crying fit I’d had. 

“ _Hey, wass sup? Wanna time face me nude? Heh. I wanna see_ all _of you_.”

His words are slurred. I feel sick. “I, ah, I look a mess. And I’m studying. Maybe later?” 

“ _Oh, come ooon_.” he says, drawing out his words. 

“No,” I snap. I can feel myself shaking. Emotions returning.

“ _Wha-the fuck Ly_?”  

Ok, deep breath. “I said no, okay? You’re drunk.” 

“ _So? You're my girlfrien_ ’.” 

“I said no.” 

“ _You don’ get to say no to me_.”

I bristle. “What?! And what are you going to do about it?” I feel stronger knowing that he’s not here. I would never dare say this to his face. 

A harsh laugh makes my toes curl in disgust. “Y _ou want to be punished? Oh yeah you do. I can do tha’ when I see you_.” 

“Oh, and when will that be? You never visit me. I always have to visit you.” It’s what’s been on my mind for months now. But I try to ignore that stray thought that I don’t even want to see him: that it’s my duty to do so. 

“ _Whatever_. _Are you gonna TimeFace me or no_?”

“I said NO,” I practically shout. Not caring that Sera could hear me in the room next door, or Cassandra in the room below. 

“ _Fuck you, Ly_.” 

I hang up and carefully place my phone on the bedside table. I calmly lie back down on the bed and scream into my pillow. 

* * *

When I wake in the morning, I’m still dressed in what I was wearing when I cried myself to sleep. I chuckle darkly at the thought. Am I fifteen again, crying myself to sleep? Creators, help me. 

I sit up in bed and stretch, rubbing my eyes which feel too big and puffy to be mine. I reach for my phone and finally open the message from Cullen I’d forgotten to check after that disastrous call yesterday. 

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford>  
[ _You working on Sunday?x_ ] 

I check my diary and punch reply, relieved for the distraction. 

[ _Morning! Yeah, but finishing early as I’m starting uni on Monday!x_ ]

He replies almost straight away. I can’t help but smile. 

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford>   
[ _Oh of course!_ _You’ll be fine: Dorian’s with you for most classes, isn't he?x_ ] 

[ _Not sure if that’s a reassuring notion or not! Do you want a lift to work on Sun?x_ ] 

Again, an instant reply. I can’t help but play with that little pendant around my neck. I freeze when I realise what I’m doing and snatch my hand away.

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford>   
[ _If that’s ok?? I hate to ask!x_ ] 

[ _Hmm, you just want me for my car! Haha!x_ ] 

There’s a slight delay before he replies. 

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford>   
[ _You know that’s not true.x_ ]

[ _Haha I know, just winding you up. ;) Of course I’ll give you a lift. Pick you up around 11am?x_ ]

<Cullen (from work) Rutherford>   
[ _Amazing - thank you! I owe you a coffee or two!x_ ]

I don’t hesitate in my reply. 

[ _Okay.x_ ] 

But then I get no answer. Oh crap, what if he’s taken it the wrong way? Well, part of me _wants_ him to take it the wrong way… wait, did I just admit that? I shake my head and throw my phone to the floor, running my hands through my hair. One battle at a time, I scold myself. 

Instead I jump in the shower, noting that Sera’s door is closed, as are Dorian’s and Cassandra’s. I take a long shower, letting the water wash over me, enjoying the warmth. I scrub hard at my skin, hoping it erases the memories of the night before and of that phone conversation. When I’m out the shower and dressed, I pick up my phone and find that I’ve got no calls or texts. It’s a strange mixture of relief and annoyance. 

After a few minutes, I dry my hair and braid it loosely before lying back down on my bed. I need to think about things, but I really don’t want to. Part of me wants to hibernate, hoping this will all blow over. I peer over and look at the stack of books on my desk, all new and fresh, ready for the new term to start in two days. I finally pick up my phone again and text Dorian. 

[ _Hey! If I make some hot chocolate, can we study together today?x_ ]

As I wait for a reply, I flick through various social media channels. I end up on BookFace and browse Solas’ profile. I frown at some pictures he’s tagged in. Curiously, I look further and see pictures from last night. He’s at a nightclub (since when did he go clubbing?). His arm around a woman’s shoulders. She’s pecking his cheek. His eyelids are heavy and he’s clearly intoxicated in the snaps, which are a tad blurry. I’m not sure what this bizarre feeling is in my gut. Am I jealous? Envious? Overreacting? 

Yes, yes I’m just overreacting. 

“Knock knock!” Dorian says from my doorway. I shove my phone under my pillow. 

“Hey! Did you get my text?” I fiddle with the pendant distractedly around my neck. 

He rolls his eyes. “I did. You do know that we live in the same house, right? One floor below each other?” 

I chuckle. “I wasn’t sure you were in,” I say, shuffling up when he comes to sit next to me on my bed. 

“Next time why don’t you knock? I’ll even put a handkerchief on the doorknob if I’ve got company,” he winks at me. 

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh geez, Dorian.” 

“Just saying! It could happen!” He reaches to my desk and grabs one of the thicker books. “Ooh, my favourite - political analysis of Ferelden literature form the 4th Age. You ready to begin?” 

I grab my note pad and we sit and study together. As I get to know Dorian more and more, I’m beginning to see just how brilliant his mind is. He’s so quick and switched on - I’m lucky to be learning from him. However, his eager eye is almost _too_ eager.

“What’s this?” he says, leaning forward to look at the pendant around my neck. 

“Oh! It’s a Jayne Ayres necklace,” I smile, showing him the tiny inscription. 

“Did Solas give it to you?”

I snort. “No way. Cullen got it for me actually.”

His eyebrows rise. “Oh, really?”  

“Yeah, for Satinalia… he gets everyone gifts, he said…?” Dorian’s eyebrows rise so high, I think they’re going to disappear in his hairline. “What?” I demand, giving him a gentle shove with my  shoulder. 

“Oh, nothing. Let’s move on to Orlesian romance, shall we?” 

We fall back into our comfortable study silence, pouring over books and writing notes. He shows me his notes and annotations from last term and by the end of the afternoon, despite being up in my room all day with no breaks, we’ve covered all the work I’d missed. I’m amazed at how well we study together. We lie on my bed - tops and tails - cushions propping us up on either end, books scattered on my bed, empty coffee cups lining my desk. 

It’s almost dark when Dorian says, “There’s something vibrating.” I blink at him, trying to comprehend. He shuffles around on my bed, moving my pillows and cushions. “Is it your-”

“It’s my phone, Dorian! _My phone_!” I say exasperated, but laughing. 

He picks it up and to my horror he answers, laughter hitching in my throat. “Hello, this is Dorian.” 

There’s a voice on the other end I can't hear. I scramble forward and reach for it, but Dorian is surprisingly strong and effortlessly manages to still hold the phone whilst dodging my grabbing hands. Panic sets in - shit, what if it’s Solas? 

“Oh, I’m sorry, she’s rather busy right now,” he says in a bored voice.

I try not to scream. If Solas is on the other end, I… I don’t know what I’m going to do. I struggle harder, knowing Dorian is only jesting, teasing me as friends do, but _Solas_ won’t understand. He won’t see it that way! He’ll think I’m cheating on him with Dorian! Creators, help me! 

“So why don’t you tell me about this necklace, hmm?”

I freeze, eyes widening. Dorian smirks. 

“And where’s my present?” he scoffs. “All right, I’ll pass you over - hang on.” He holds the phone out to me. “Cully Wully, for you.” 

I snatch my phone out of his hands, and he barks out a laugh. I tug my hair behind my ears and clear my throat. “Um, hello Cullen.” 

“ _Hey - please ignore Dorian… please_?” his voice hums on the other end. I ignore my stomach flipping. I’m just relieved it’s not Solas, aren't I? Creators, my emotions are a _mess_. 

“OK I’ll ignore him,” I chuckle, peering at Dorian, who’s watching me closely. 

“ _Look, I’m sorry to call, but Blackwall’s just phoned in sick. Can you come and work this evening instead of Sunday_?” 

“Of course,” I say instantly. 

A relieved sigh. “ _Amazing, thank you so much_.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes - that okay?”

“ _More than okay_ ,” he says. My face warms. 

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

“ _Bye_.” 

I hang up and glare at Dorian. “What?” 

He hums and twirls his moustache. “Oh, nothing, nothing.” 

“Dorian-” I begin and his smile fades. My voice broke. Oh crap, are those hot tears? Shit! 

“What is it?” he asks, face now full of concern. 

“I… please, I don't want to sound horrid, but please don’t answer my phone. If that had been Solas then…” 

“Then what?” he presses. 

“Solas would’ve flipped a lid,” Sera says from my doorway. I jump up, startled. “I’m right, aren’t I?” she says, arms folded. 

I chew my lip and turn away, pulling open my wardrobe, searching for my bar clothes. I hate that she’s right, and I think she knows that. But I can’t… I mustn’t speak. 

“What on earth are you prattling on about?” Dorian asks as I quickly pack my bag. 

“Solas is-.”

“Drop it, Sera,” I warn quietly. I rummage under my bed for my shoes and pull them on, not looking at either of them. 

She strides into my room. “No, I won’t drop it! I’ve seen your arms!” Her face is so close to mine, that as I stand, I can see every little freckle on her cheeks. 

Dorian stands. “Sera, what-”

“Your arms!” Sera demands. 

I take a breath. “I don’t know what you’re on about,” I say calmly, pushing past her, hoisting my bag on my shoulder and running down the stairs. I don’t even say farewell to either of them. 

* * *

By the time I finally arrive at the pub, my strange mix of anger, fear and - well - just that strange conflict of emotions disappears as soon as I push through the doors. The pub is packed full, mainly with Skyhold rugby fans, all slopping beers, singing awful chants and generally just getting merrily smashed. And let me tell you that being sober, in a strange state of emotions _and_ working in a roomful of sports fans, is not really that much fun. 

I slip through the crowds and behind the bar, shimmying past Cullen and Maryden who don’t even clock that I’ve arrived. I dash upstairs, throw my bag on the sofa in the staff room and quickly ready myself by pinning on my apron and brushing myself down. I hold a hair bobble between my teeth as I pull my hair into a messy bun and pause: my eyes are still red and puffy. Did I cry on my way over here? The drive to work is a bit of a blur.

And so I rummage in my handbag for foundation, eyeliner or any sort of makeup but - Fen’harel take me! I’ve got nothing. I’ll have to go down on the bar floor looking like a right state. How did I end up like this? Never mind - I’m sure that the business of the pub downstairs will, no doubt, keep me occupied, so these nasty thoughts won’t have time to filter through and throw me off-balance. I remember that Cullen said he keeps himself busy to distract him from Kirkwall. I wonder if that technique will work for me too, as I try to forget this mess I’m in? 

Minutes later I’m behind the bar, working between Maryden and Cullen, pouring pints, making spirits and counting out change. As I stand and take a breath pulling a large order of beer, Cullen slides up next to me, using a different tap. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” I grin, tilting the pint glass with one hand, whilst pumping the tap with the other. “Blackwall bailed on your again, huh?” I say conversationally. 

“Yep,” he does the same with his pint, before flicking a glance at me. “But I think I prefer working with you.” 

I try to ignore that little flip my stomach does at his words. Instead I chuckle and shove him gently with my arm. He realities and does the same, a wicked smile breaking on his face. 

“Flatterer,” I say, starting another pint. 

He shrugs. “I try.” 

We fall back into that satisfactory rhythm of working around each other, even with Maryden - who I’ve only worked with once before - humming around us. As I suspected, those nagging little thoughts have all gone, and despite everything and how tired I am, this evening I feel at my most content. I’m actually enjoying being worked off my feet, of working with a someone who is becoming a good friend. I smile to myself - I really _do_ enjoy working with Cullen. I glance at him just a few inches away, our arms are close enough again that they occasionally brush. His white shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his apron is mucky over his dark jeans and he’s also smiling, but he’s smiling _at_ me. Shit. I hide my confusion of emotions by pulling a stupid (and probably repulsive) expression on my face. Instead he throws his head back and laughs, little creases cornering his eyes. I have to admit - I like his laugh. Makes me want to laugh. _Bugger_. 

As the evening continues, the bar starts to quieten down as many groups shuffle off to seek nightclubs who will remain open. I glance at the clock, noting that there’s only an hour of serving time left, when a familiar face leans over the bar. 

“Hello Lyla,” Cassandra says, her words a little slurred. 

Cullen touches my arm, and I move away from the till: it’s a normal gesture we use as we work around one another. And yet I try to ignore the warmth of his hand when it touched my arm.

“Hey Cass,” I beam. “What can I get you?”

She purses her lips in thought, looking at the rows of spirits behind me. “I’ll get eight bottles of… _Skyton’s Best_ Cider,” she says. “Although I might need a hand carrying them.” 

I touch Cullen’s arm and he moves past me, whilst I punch Cassandra’s order in on the till. 

“I’ll carry them over,” Cullen says, glancing at Cassandra. 

“It’s alright,” I say, opening the cash drawer. “I’ll clear some of the tables at the same time.” 

He nods and moves down the bar to start serving another group of rugby fans. I flick off the bottle caps for each beer and place them on a serving tray before dashing round to the other side of the bar next to Cassandra, who takes a few bottles. I lift the tray onto my shoulder and follow her through the crowds, until we arrive at a corner booth full of rugby players.

“Lyla, this is Iron Bull, the captain of the rugby team,” she says, sitting down next to the huge Qunari. 

I place the tray on the table and hand out the beers. “Nice to meet you, Iron Bull,” I say, slightly intimidated. He’s got an eyepatch and a _very_ chiselled jaw. Creators - I do not want to get on the wrong side of him.

But I blink when he roars with laughter at my obvious expression. Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Don’t let his appearance fool you: he’s a big teddy bear, really.”

“Haha, although not on the playing filed, am I right boys?” he shouts to the group around him. They raise their bottles and cheer. 

I look at Cassandra. “I should get back to work,” I say and with a wave head back to the bar, clutching the empty tray to my chest. I pause at empty tables and pile it up with empty glasses and bottles before winding back to the bar. I put the full tray down with a sigh, and freeze when a hand touches my back. 

“Hey darlin’,” a man drawls from behind. 

I spin on the spot, hands grasping the edge of the table, only to find myself cornered by a large Ferelden man. His breath stinks of beer and his eyes are sagging with intoxication. I try to hide my repulsion as he leans a hand on the table so he’s eye level with me. 

“Wha’ time do ya clock-off?” he says, not abashed at all as his eyes look me up and down. 

My gut twists with distaste. “Sorry, I’m taken,” I reply with a forced smile, moving to push past him, but his reactions are fast, considering he’s so drunk, and a hand clasps my elbow tightly. With a wave of nausea, I notice that it’s a similar grip to the one Solas has grasped me with before. 

I take a staying breath. “Please let me go,” I say. 

He grins, clutching my elbow tighter. “Not until you give me your number.” 

“HEY!” a voice behind the bar calls, and I think it’s Cullen. And when I think of Cullen and how I like his company and how I _really_ loathe Solas’ at the moment and I think about how unfair this whole mess is; well, I think something inside me snaps. 

I bring my knee up and shove it firmly into this guy’s crotch. He lets out a little “Oof!” before doubling over, grasping his crown jewels. I clench my jaw and glare, knowing that this probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, but right now, _I simply don’t care_. 

Cullen and Cassandra are both at my side, Iron Bull also here. Bull grabs the groaning guy by the collar of his shirt and pulls him to his feet. “What are you playing at, huh?” he yells, making the whole pub fall silent and watch. 

“She-she kneed me!” he gasps, pointing a shaking finger at me. 

Cullen stands in front of me, stopping me as I move forward to do, well Creators knows what. Instead his back blocks my view, but I hear his words. 

“And you harassed a member of my staff and a friend. Get out. Now,” he says, voice low, dangerous.  

I peer over Cullen’s shoulder and see the fool try and stand and straighten, only for Bull to pick up him so his feet are off the floor, noses pressed together.

“He said GET OUT, did not not hear him?!” Bull roars, saliva spitting over his red face. 

The Ferelden man squirms then nods vigorously. Cullen is shaking and I gulp, preparing for our friendship to be halted because, here in this pub, he is technically my _boss_. But when he turns to look at me - once Bull has escorted the man out - it’s a look that makes me pause. It’s a look of such…genuine care and concern that I see and it’s unnerving me. His eyes soften and he runs a hand through his hair and, if I’m really honest, this shakes me more than this whole incident. And that’s because no-one has _ever_ looked at me like that before - like we’re the only two people in the world. Creators - I’m in trouble.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand on my upper arm. It’s a gentle touch, one of concern and kindness. My face burns and I look at everything else in the pub except for him. 

“Yeah,” I say as casually as possible. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

The pub closes soon after and we fall into the close-down routines. Despite Cullen’s insistence I take a break, I carry on working, desperate to distract myself from these maddening thoughts. I can’t think clearly - and in the last twenty-four hours I’ve not been thinking properly at all. Once the final customers are ushered out and the doors are locked, Cullen leans over the bar, uncaps two bottles of beers and hands one to me. 

“What’s this?” I ask.

“An alcoholic beverage called a beer,” he grins. 

I roll my eyes. “You’re starting to pick up my sense of humour. It’s not a good sign.” Regardless, I take the bottle, careful to make sure our fingers don’t brush. 

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks as Maryden pulls on her jacket.

“Yeah, I’m fine - just mortified,” I admit. “I thought you were going to fire me on the spot.” 

He takes a swig of his beer before answering. “I was angry,” he says carefully. “But not at you. Just don’t tell Leliana, okay?” He leans back. “You too, Maryden. Let’s keep this between us.” 

“I hear ya,” she calls, picking up her handbag. “Am I ok to leave?” 

Cullen nods. “Go ahead - Lyla and I will do the final lock up. Thanks for your help.” 

Maryden hesitates by me. “Don’t worry about it, sweets: you know, I punched a guy in the nose on my first week,” she winks before slipping out the pub. 

I’m only too aware that we are now alone in the pub. I take another sip of my beer and rack my brains for something to talk about. But now it’s just us two here, I’m very much coming to realise that this man here is stirring something inside that I cannot allow. I’ve had many friends in the past who I’ve had subtle crushes on, but I’ve always been in a relationship with Solas. They’ve been little fancies, harmless flirting. But this is different and I’m terrified. I won’t cross the line, and yet I really want him to. I’m just curious. 

As if on cue, my phone in my back pocket vibrates and Solas’s image flashes up. My thumb hovers over the answer button but I glance at Cullen who’s watching me closely. 

“I… I should probably get this…” I trail off. 

He looks away. “Sure. Of course. I’ll just, ah, finish closing up,” he pushes himself off the bar, leaving his beer and heads up to the office. 

The phone buzzes in my hands, and I’m so close to answering, but I don’t. I decline the call and slide my phone back into my pockets, following Cullen upstairs. He sits in the office turning off the lights and locking windows whilst I slip into the staff room and grab my bag. I linger in the office doorway when I see Cullen’s head in his hands, taking a deep breath. 

“Cullen?” I ask quietly. 

He looks up, eyes weary, a loose curl of hair falling across his forehead. “Sorry - just got a migraine. I’ll finish locking up - you can go if you want.” 

“I can give you a lift home…?” 

He looks at me, and my stomach flips. I chew my bottom lip and try to ignore the sensation. 

Cullen sighs and rubs his chin. “I… I shouldn’t. But thank you. I’ll walk today.” 

“Alright then… I… goodnight,” I say. “And thanks again.” 

A faint smile on his lips, so brief I think I may have imagined it. “Goodnight, Lyla.” 

I back out of the office and head downstairs. The two bottles of beer, still predominately full sit together alone on the bar top. I squeeze my eyes tight shut, blinking back tears. I wipe my eyes, angry at myself, unsure as to why I’m feeling like this. Part of me wants to take both bottles up and sit with him in the office and talk. I know that perhaps a week or so ago I probably would’ve done that. But now… now I remember the whole night and I think of the pendant around my neck. 

With much reluctance, I slip out of the pub, leaving the two bottles on the bar. I can’t help to think that in another life, I would be walking up those stairs and letting myself dive headfirst into this mess. But not now. I can’t. As if on cue, my phone buzzes. This time I answer it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Update in 2 weeks ^^


	8. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen tries to let things go.

I wake gasping for air, my duvet and sheets drenched in sweat, but all I feel is the chill of the morning air against my skin. It’s taunting me so much the last few days and I hate to admit that I miss the bloody lyrium. Cassandra did warn me that this would happen as a side effect of withdrawal, and normally I can handle a night or two of cold sweats, but over the last six days in a row, with no sign of letting up? Not so much. 

Perhaps it’s for the best then, that I have taken on Lyla’s shifts at the pub, now that she’s started her studies up at Skyhold University. Ever since I declined her offer to drive me home a few weeks ago, I feel this void opening between us, all full of unsaid things - well on my part anyway. Maker knows what she’s thinking. If she even thinks about me at all.

I pull out my phone from under my pillow and idly flick to my last message I sent her, now over three weeks ago.

[ _Hey, hope your first day at uni goes well! x_ ]

Well, not that it’s a message that demands a reply, I’ll be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that her lack of response has left me a bit down. Which is stupid, really, when I think about it. But then I think that she’s perhaps slipping out of my life and I’m taking no steps to stop it. It’s probably for the best, isn’t it? I laugh bitterly. I guess she will always be the one that got away.

Instead I punch a message on my phone to Cassandra. The whole household have gone back to uni so I haven’t been back to the house to see any of them, as they’ve been so busy. And also, I think I’m subconsciously avoiding Lyla, just incase I do something stupid.

[ _Hey, you free this PM? Wanna hang out at yours?_ ]

She replies about an hour later, once I’ve had a shower and shaken away my nightmares.

<Cassandra P.>  
[ _Sure. I’m out until about 4, but Dorian’s home.x]_

I hesitate, thinking quickly. Dorian has most of his classes with Lyla, as they’re on the same course. And as much as I really want to see Lyla, at the same time I don’t. But despite this I find myself pulling on my shoes, and heading towards the all-too-familiar house, feeling a sense of resentment at the inhabitants who are all back studying.

The university wasn’t for me, and the lyrium withdrawal was effecting my studies. I thought it would be the most logical thing to do after leaving Kirkwall and leaving the army. Even so, what I miss more than anything is the student lifestyle. Sure, I was eating Baked Beans and microwave meals and drinking far too much cheap beer, but the social life and living in that house had been some of the best times of my life (despite the lack of lyrium). In fact, I thought I was over feeling like this over the holiday break; where I could pretend I still lived in the house, still led that lifestyle. But I’m not and things now seem more complicated than ever.

The front door flies open and Sera lets me in. “We’ve got a problem,” she says, slamming the door behind me.

I blink. “I’m sorry?”

“That prat is here, again.”

I rub my neck. “Maybe I should go-”

Sera grabs my arm. “Don’t you dare, you shit!” she hisses, then lets go. “Look, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“‘kay, come with me.”

I follow her up two flights of stairs, feeling uneasy. My headache is pounding, but maybe that’s due to my lack of coffee today, rather than the lyrium withdrawal. Or perhaps it’s both. When I reach the top of the stairs, the door to my old room is flung open, and it’s the first time I’ve seen it since I moved out. My stomach churns as I see Solas reclining on the desk chair, whilst Lyla stands, arms crossed. Sera ignores them both and heads to her room next door, gesturing me to follow, but I pause and give a little wave to Lyla.

“Hey,” I say. Maker’s breath, despite not seeing her for a few weeks, I realise that there is no _way_ I am over her. Her bright eyes snap to mine, widening somewhat before she smiles, tugging her hair behind an ear. Much to my delight her cheeks turn faintly pink.

“Hi Cullen,” she replies, licking her lips. I can’t help but watch as she does so and I.. feel _very_ warm all of a sudden.

Solas turns in the desk chair and kicks the door shut with a bang. 

Sera leans on her doorframe, arms crossed, eyes rolling so far into her head I think they’re going to disappear. I look back once to Lyla’s shut door before following Sera into her room. Despite the small space, Sera has somehow managed to fill her small attic room with all sorts of stuff from decorations to cushions and musical instruments. She flops down on her bed as I close the door.

“Argh!” she says, pulling a pillow over her face. She looks up. “He’s such a prat,” she spits.

I take a seat in her desk chair, rubbing my head. “Yeah…”

Sera glares at me. “There’s something goin’ on Cully, and I don’t like it.”

“Is this what Cassandra talked about a few weeks ago?” I say, ignoring the flick of anger in my stomach. I’m not usually one to pick a fight, but Solas seems to deserve a punch in the face.

“Uh-huh, and I ain’t makin’ it up. Cully, I’m pretty sure that prat hurts Lyla.”

“We don’t know that, Sera,” I say evenly. I pray to the Maker that it’s not true. If it were, why would she stay with him? She’s a smart woman, surely she would know if…? I say as much to Sera who snorts.

“Not always the case. I’m gonna ask a few friends in Denerim to see if they know abou’ him. You’re on my side, ain’t ya? I mean, what with you lovin’ her and all.”

It’s like a bucket of ice has been chucked over me. “W-what makes you say that?”

Sera shrugs. “Dorian said so. But wha’ever: I ain’t tellin' a soul.”

I watch her closely, and for once this bubbly elf is all serious. It’s really not like her to be so…  nonchalant. I rememberer the group chat from nearly two months ago where they had all teased me about having a crush, but as I peer at Sera, I see no teasing, no pranks - just honesty.

I lean forward. “Alright, Sera. If you’re worried about this, then it’s got to be big,” I say slowly. “But you know it’s really none of our business? And they’ve been together since high school,” I say, almost to convince myself.

She huffs. “It _is_ our business ‘cause she’s our _friend_ ,” she says, putting great emphasis on the word. “And I’ve heard them arguin’ ever since ‘e got ‘ere.”

“About what?”

“From what I could hear, your name was mentioned ‘couple of times.”

I rest my head in my hands. “Maker’s breath.” If I'm the cause of some rift between them, then I’ve only got myself to blame and Lyla should hate me. Perhaps I can’t control the way I look at her, and maybe Solas has noticed it. Maybe he saw her necklace and took it the wrong way. My gut twists with guilt - if she’s been hurt because of my stupid actions, then I will never forgive myself.

“Is there something goin’ on between you two?” she asks seriously, voice low.

I exhale loudly, running a hand through my hair. “Oh no, I don’t think she has a clue how I feel about her. Not that it matters - she’s in a relationship,” I reaffirm, again.

“Ppfft, a really shitty one,” Sera mutters under her breath. “This all started out as a joke, ya know? You havin’ a crush on the new girl, but now-”

There’s a knock at the door and we both freeze. “It’s only me - I’ve come to steal Cullen away because I’ve got something to tell him,” Dorian’s voice says loudly from the other side.

I open the door and, much like Sera did earlier, grabs my arm and starts leading me downstairs. “Sorry Sera,” he calls loudly - loud enough that Lyla and Solas can surely hear - “but I’ve got a BIG CRUSH on Cullen and I need to tell EVERYONE!”

“Andraste’s knickers,” I groan, humiliated.

As soon as we’re in his room I turn on him. “What was that display for?”

Dorian sits in his plush armchair in the corner, crossing his legs. “That stupid Solas thinks that _I’m_ out to steal his girlfriend. Me!” he barks laughter, but it fades quickly. “I know I’m charming and flattering but honestly! In all seriousness, he _is_ on to you though, so I thought I would pretend you and I are a happy little couple.”

“Of course,” I grimace, Dorian’s logic always leaves me exasperated. “What do you mean ‘he’s on to me’?”

Dorian turns serious and I think it’s perhaps just as unnerving as Sera. Never, in the years that I’ve known them, have both Sera and Dorian gone form silly to solemn so quickly. Normally I would expect some sarcasm, some prank being pulled, but I think we’re past that. As Sera said, what started off as a little bit of fun is becoming far too… serious.

“You need to let her go, Cullen,” Dorian says quietly.

I lean against the wall. “I know,” I mutter. “I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough. They’ve been arguing about you.”

“Sera mentioned.”

“Oh bloody hell, she mentioned her suspicions to you as well, didn’t she?”

I nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to get in the way but-”

Dorian cuts across me. “Sera’s always one to read into things a bit _too_ much. I think they’re just going through a rough patch - as all relationships do - what with her moving to pretty much the other side of Ferelden - not that I’m a fan of Solas or anything… but we don’t know the full story.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I say, but despite this, what Sera says still sits in the back of my mind.

Dorian sighs dramatically. “I know you _think_ you love her, but do you really? Either way, you need to move on”.

I don’t reply, and instead stare at the speckled carpet, my hands deep in my jean pockets. Maker’s breath, how did I end up like this again? I had felt something similar for an old comrade in the army - Lieutenant Amell, her name was - but that had ended quickly, what with the war in Kirkwall and all. And then I saw that she’d gone off and married someone a few months later, well that’s kind of put me off for a while. But things with Lyla feel different. In another life, perhaps…

“Anyway!” Dorian says, clapping his hands to change the subject. “ _I’ve_ been speaking with Varric, and he’s found you a date!”

I jerk my head up to look at Dorian so fast, I crick my neck. “No.”

“Oh come on!” he almost whines.

“No way,” I say.

“She’s nice! And she served in Kirkwall too!”

I glare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I am! She seems… fiery. Perhaps just what you need to get you out of this rut.”

I rub my forehead, my headache becoming more prominent. “I need to see Cassandra,” I mumble.

“I don’t think she’ll go on a date with you,” he chuckles.

I don’t even both giving him an answer and instead leave his room, heading downstairs to the living room. I sit on the sofa, trying to pretend that Lyla and Solas aren’t two floors above me, and that I seem to be the cause of the rift between them. I try not to dwell on Sera and Dorian’s words, but I can’t help it.

Moments later, Cassandra pushes open the living room door, Dorian in tow. She crosses her arms and looks down at me, eyes narrowing.

“What’s up?”

“Lyrium,” I mumble, glancing at Dorian. I know that he knows, but that doesn’t mean I want to share every tiny detail with him, especially when he’s not _exactly_ in my good books at the moment.

“What about lyrium?” Cassandra asks, sitting on the adjacent sofa.

My anger about everything seems to boil over, my gut churning, head pounding. “It’s fucking relentless! How am I meant to sleep, meant to get by when every fucking day is agony, hmm?” I’m on my feet, my voice is raised but I’m past the point of giving a damn.

Cassandra looks far too calm and it’s enough to make me even more angry. “You need a distraction, Cullen, and I don’t mean working longer hours,” she says evenly. “Dorian told me that Varric has arranged a date for you-”

I swear loudly. “You can’t be serious!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dorian says, an eyebrow raised. “A release of all that pent up sexual tension  will surely help-”

“Shut up,” Cassandra says before I have chance to.  “Look, all I'm saying is that you should at least give it a go. You’re severely overworked and this crush with Lyla can’t continue - it’s clearly getting you down.”

“Pretty sure that’s none of your business,” I grumble, hating the way my face warms, knowing that she’s on to something.

“I think you made it our business over the holidays,” Dorian retorts under his breath. I glare at him.

“Cullen, I’ve met this woman Varric has set you up with - she’s on the uni hockey team. I think just going for a drink with her will just take your mind off the lyrium, off Lyla - everything. Yeah?” Cassandra prompts.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Am I seriously considering this? Maker’s breath.

“Fine - as long as after this ‘date’, you two will drop this whole ‘Lyla thing’ you’ve come up with.”

The pair exchange a glance. “As long as you drop it too,” Cassandra counters.

“Fine,” I say tightly.

Dorian smiles. “Perfect! I’ll let Varric know.”

I leave the house not long after that, now feeling worse than when I first arrived. I’m so… _conflicted_. I think it’s clear that a friendship with Lyla is now not going to be possible. If the friendship continues, I know that in the back of my mind I will always wonder ‘what if’. And I’ve done that before with Lieutenant Amell. I sure can pick them, can't I?

Instead of going straight home to wallow in self pity, I walk the streets of Skyton, hands buried deep in my pockets, not really knowing where I’m going. It’s strange but I let myself get lost in a town I’ve come to know rather well. My feet take me down roads I’ve never seen before, past restaurants and pubs that are tucked away, houses and apartments with immaculate gardens.

I pull out my phone from my jacket pocket and notice a message from an unknown sender.

<Unknown>  
[ _Hi. So my name’s Mari - Varric seems to have set us up or something?_ ]

I save her number and then scratch my head thoughtfully before replying. Well, here we go.

[ _Yeah I’m Cullen. So shall we meet up for a drink? Keep Varric happy?_ ]

<Mari ??>  
[ _Sure. I’m training for hockey championships but i’ll be free in a few weeks. Where do you wanna go?_ ] 

[ _Shall we meet at Herald’s Rest at 7, not this Sat, but Sat after? We can head to the cinema after_.] I laugh to myself: Maker, when did I get so bold?

<Mari ??>  
[ _Sounds lush. See you then Cullen._ ] 

A faint smile touches my lips and it’s only now that I realise that I’ve stopped walking. I look up to find myself stood outside a mechanic’s garage. Then it hits me: perhaps if I get a car then I won’t need to take lifts from Lyla any more? I’ve been walking home after every shift, and we seem to not be working together at the moment either. But I do enjoy getting  lift with her and being in her car and - Maker help me - just being in her company. But then again Dorian and Cassandra are right - I need to let this go.

I walk into the garage, peering at some cars when I see it - the perfect distraction I could want. A vintage black motorcycle.

“Can I help you mate?” a guy says, wiping his hands on a mucky cloth.

I point to the bike. “How much for that one?”

“Hmm,” he says, rubbing his nose. “Needs some work, that one does.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “I need a new challenge.”

He grins. “Alright, I’ll give her to you for five hundred gold.”

“Two-fifty,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Four hundred,” he counters, eyes narrowing.

“Three hundred.”

“Nah, can’t go that low, mate.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You just told me that it needs some work - you honestly think I’m going to pay more than three hundred for it?” He balks and I continue. “Even from here I can see that it needs a new exhaust, paint job, mirror, visor and headlights - and I haven’t even seen the engine yet. So… three hundred?” I hold my hand out. I don’t know what’s got in to me, but I’m feeling rather smug.

The mechanic looks at me then down at my hand before sighing in exasperation and shaking it. “Fine, three hundred.”

“Deal?” I confirm.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think? Please let me know in the comments! Feedback is really, really loved. :)


End file.
